


His Saving Grace

by marvel_and_mischief



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Conversation About Feelings, Detailed description of a panic attack, Drunken behaviour, Drunkenness, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Nudity, Panic Attacks, Reader talks about her dark thoughts in the past, Swearing, Verbal Abuse, nothing graphic, talks of a domestic abuse case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:21:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28595409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_and_mischief/pseuds/marvel_and_mischief
Summary: Maxwell is finding it difficult dealing with the consequences of using the stone. When he sees your ad in the business pages of a magazine promising to help turn his life around, will you be his saving grace?
Relationships: Maxwell Lord/Reader, Maxwell Lord/You
Comments: 35
Kudos: 55





	1. I

The fragrant candles, artificial berries and sweet vanilla, are doing a good job of disguising the fact that Maxwell is living in a completely new apartment. The smells are familiar, his favourite on those rare occasions when he would be able to relax in the evenings, but the cold tiles that run throughout the open plan living room and kitchen make his leather shoes echo hauntingly around his new home. The dark brown couch and various glass furniture such as a coffee table and shelving units have been a presence in his life for years though rarely used. But the view through his average sized windows show less of the city than in his previous apartment, now that he’s stuck on the suburban outskirts of Washington D.C where it’s easier to hide in the shadows and pass as an ordinary man. 

He still has some luxuries, he wasn’t giving _everything_ up. The newest television set courtesy of Sears, an answering machine with no one to leave a message. Maxwell had even managed to bring with him a few of his favourite designer three-piece suits though he has nowhere to wear them to anymore. 

It had been a tsunami of change when he had returned to Washington to find his son. That had been three weeks ago, yet felt like moments ago to Maxwell. When he remembers that time, it’s nothing but a blur of questions and not knowing many of the answers. Police, social services, journalists, all asking questions upon questions of what had happened, how had he hypnotised the world like that, was it a publicity stunt, was it a mental breakdown, was he safe around his son? That last one had been a punch to the gut. 

Maxwell hadn’t seen Alistair since. His mother, quite rightly, was still deciding whether to let Maxwell ever see him again. So he needed to show that he was turning his life around. Doing the right thing for his son, whatever that might be. He started with liquidating Black Gold, not that there was any money left in it, selling off anything he could including the offices, and moving out of the city. 

A new start, a new man? Maxwell was going to try his best, for Alistair. 

Maxwell sits slumped on his couch, watching a comedy show on his television, microwave dinner sat on a magazine on his lap as he forks the overly salted meat stew into his mouth. He’s wearing blue jeans with a white shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest and sleeves rolled up, this new look a million miles away from the oil tycoon he was a month ago. 

He’s not laughing at the television, not really tasting the food he’s swallowing, eyes zoned out and body working on autopilot, more zombie than man. Maxwell seems to shake himself out of it when the food starts to make his mouth dry and he needs something to drink. 

Entering the kitchen is a reminder that he really needs to get his shit together. Plates and cutlery are stacking up in the sink now he doesn’t own a dishwasher, and a quick whiff suggests the trash needs taking out sometime soon. Maxwell sighs at the state of his home, his _life_. This was meant to be a fresh start, instead he’s turning into a useless piece of-

On opening the fridge door, Maxwell is reminded how little he’s been taking care of himself when he’s met with absolutely nothing. He pulls open the doors of the cupboards, praying there was a bottle of _something_ but he was coming up bare. 

His eyes flickered briefly to the taps, contemplating pouring a glass of water but who knows what chemicals and other disgusting things were mixed with the water. No, he was going to have to finally bite the bullet and take a trip down to the shop. 

Maxwell had left the house only a couple of times since moving into the apartment. The first time was to do the first food shop. Fortunately it had been a grey, rainy day so he could cover up head to toe and not risk being recognised. The trip had taken him less than an hour and he had breathed a sigh of relief when he’d made it back home in one piece.

The second trip had left Maxwell more wary of his surroundings and was the main reason he was living like a farm animal. He had entered the pharmacy in search of some pain killers, the older he was getting the more the aches and pains were becoming unbearable. He had gotten a few odd looks as he walked around the store but he had ignored them, head down, hurrying with a handful of medicine to the counter and throwing a few notes on top. When the pharmacist didn’t budge, Maxwell looked up to see a large man with his arms crossed, staring him down with a look that could kill. With a heavy heart Maxwell had left the store empty handed and had been hiding out in his apartment since. 

He wasn’t feeling sorry for himself, he was certain he deserved everybody’s anger, but it made it hard to move on when he felt the world was against him. 

Maxwell grabbed his coat, threw the hood up and placed a pair of sunglasses on his nose and forced himself out of the apartment. 

It was like ripping off a bandaid, Maxwell thought, if he was quick and focused it wouldn’t hurt as much.

The walk to the store was fine, there weren’t too many people around so he could keep his distance and remain unnoticed by everyone. On walking into the store his heart rate spiked and his hands became clammy as the rush of hot air hit him in his over-clothed state. He had no choice but to take off his sunglasses. 

He suddenly didn’t know what to buy. He had learnt a few dishes in college, more of the chopping things up and throwing them into the same pot kind of dishes, but he couldn’t keep living on microwave meals. He grabbed a basket and with a deep breath he moved into the aisles. 

Every brush of a passing customer had Maxwell stiffening up, every accidental drop of a product made him squeeze his eyes shut in fear that it was to do with him, it was someone angry on recognising who he was. By the time he had paid for his shopping he was leaving the store a sweaty, nervous mess. He realised too late that in the rush to finish he had forgotten to buy anything to drink. 

He thinks he held his breath the whole walk home because when he got back to his apartment he was gulping for air as soon as he shut the door. He dropped the shopping bags to the floor and pulled open his coat to breathe, sliding to the floor with a _thwump._

Maxwell closed his eyes and thought of Alistair, the smile that always warmed his insides, his tiny hand in his much larger palm, the feel of him wrapping his arms around Maxwell’s neck as he spun him around. The memories brought a tear to his eye but had him smiling for the first time in weeks. He hoped he could have that again, he hoped Alistair never looked at him the way he knew strangers did when they recognised him. With fear, or hate, or worse _disappointment_ like his ex-wife had looked at him the last time they had seen each other. 

Twenty minutes later peace had settled over Maxwell and he was able to pull himself up off the floor and put the food away in the kitchen. He stomached a glass of water without retching, washed the dishes in the sink, wiped down the tops and on standing back he surveyed his home and vowed to keep it in the same state as he wanted his mind to be in. What was it his mother used to say to him when he helped her with the housework? 

_“A calm house equals a calm heart equals a calm life.”_

Tidying the crumbs off the coffee table Maxwell paused at the magazine he had been using as a dinner tray earlier. The man on the front cover was wearing a sharp blue pinstriped suit, similar to one Maxwell owned, had an exaggerated smile with added sparkle on the front tooth and his finger was pointing head on at whoever should pick up the magazine. Maxwell knows that look, he’s had his photo professionally taken in the exact same position. Carefully curated to make the consumer feel that the businessman is talking to them, friendly face but with a direct approach. It was all false and misleading. 

Maxwell flicked through the pages on his way to the trashcan but paused when he saw the face of a beautiful woman, a slightly uncomfortable smile on her lips that seemed too genuine for this particular brand of magazine. Maxwell skimmed the page, realising is was in fact an advertisement, before landing on the headline quote.

_**“Want to turn your life around? Looking for a career change later in life? Do you need help to update your public image? Hire me to help you do just that!”** _

It was exactly what Maxwell needed wasn’t it? He had spent three weeks meaning to change his life around for the better and he hadn’t gotten far. He hadn’t gotten anywhere in fact. Maybe a little help was what he needed. Another perspective on his situation, maybe this woman could provide positivity where Maxwell was lacking.

He took a seat on the edge of the couch and picked up the telephone sitting on the side table, dialling the number on the advert. The worst she could say was no, right?

-

You thought you were imagining it at first. Your telephone hadn’t rang since your mother called a week ago for the obligatory ‘hello, are you still alive, when will you be visiting next’ conversation. So when you stepped into the shower, head under the water, gazing into thin air, you thought you were dreaming of the rings of the telephone. But when you pressed your ear to the glass door to listen out into the living room, you soon realised it was real.

You jumped out of the shower, nearly slipping on the puddle of water, grabbed a towel to wrap around yourself and ran into the living room towards the sound. You mentally cursed yourself for hooking up the telephone near the front door of your apartment instead of somewhere more sensible, like the living room. 

You picked up the phone, urging your racing heart to calm down as you spoke your name into the receiver. 

“Good evening,” spoke the man on the other end, his voice sounding nervous, perhaps because you sounded so out of breath? “I saw your advertisement in a business magazine, I was wondering if I could acquire your services?”

Your eyes widened, a delighted grin threatening to pull at the corners of your lips. This was the first call you had gotten since paying for the advertisements last month. You were beginning to worry you had formed such a negative reputation you would never work again. But here was someone who was either very desperate or didn’t recognise your face. 

“Yes, what kind of service would you require?” You picked up a pen from the small table your telephone sat on and opened up a fresh notepad. 

“I was a businessman you see, a rather successful one and I seem to have fallen on hard times,” there was a pause, you weren’t sure if he was going to continue but when he did you had to hold back from choking on your spit, “my name is Maxwell Lord, you should know who I am before you agree to anything.”

You knew exactly who Maxwell Lord was, you had seen his face on infomercials for years. His name was once synonymous with the American Dream and everything one should aspire to be. And then his dreams turned into nightmares, he became greedy and corrupt by power and money and wanting more than he could handle. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Mr Lord.” You frowned at your own tone, more stern than you intended.

“I don’t pretend that I can save face after… everything, but business is all I know. I need your advice, if you would be willing to work for me.”

You would consider declining if you had any other choice. You doubted you would get any work this week, or this _month_. But you also weren’t a miracle worker. If your reputation was in the dirt, Maxwell’s was at the bottom of the fucking ocean floor. There was no saving that. 

You heard Maxwell sigh and you found yourself feeling bad. Nobody had helped you up when you were down, the least you could do was offer kindness.

“Let’s meet up. We’ll discuss your situation and see what we can come up with,” you said hopefully, writing his name at the top of the notepad with a big question mark at the end. 

“Yes,” Maxwell exclaimed, a little too enthusiastic but it made you huff out a small laugh.

“Is tomorrow good? I can reserve a room at the library-“

“No. Could you come to me instead?” Maxwell cleared his throat and you could hear him shifting around uncomfortably. Clearly he wasn’t adjusting to his new situation well if he couldn’t meet you in public.

“Your place?” You asked, receiving an affirmative hum in response, “I can do that,” you nodded and jotted down the address he gave you, noting with relief that it was no more than a thirty minute bus ride away. 

“Come around at your convenience.”

“Is the morning okay? Ten?” You hoped you didn’t sound too eager, but the thought of waiting all day for your first job in months would put you on edge and you needed to be on top of your game if you had any hope of fixing the infamous Maxwell Lord’s career. 

“Ten is fine. I look forward to seeing you,” and with that, Maxwell hung up before you could change your mind.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell and reader have their first meeting.

The world was not being kind to Maxwell, you thought whilst sitting cross legged on your living room floor, spreading out the various newspapers and magazines you had brought from the convenience store late last night. 

After your phone call with the man himself, you decided on going all in on your first client, doing as much research as possible to get the lay of the land when it came down to how much of his career you could savage. And by the looks of it, it was nothing at all. 

Tabloid newspapers were laughing at him, the gossip mags were prying into his troubled relationship with his son and ex-wife as a possible cause of his devastating breakdown, anything related to business or finance was telling you to stay clear of Maxwell Lord, lest his bad luck rub off on you. His career as an oil tycoon was unsalvageable, so you had to come up with another plan. One you doubted he would like.

Maxwell had sounded so hopeful when you’d agreed to meet with him and some part of you regretted having to tell him his career was over. But you supposed he didn’t hire you to lie to him and give him false hope.

You looked over to the clock on the wall, two hours until you had to leave for your first (and quite possibly your last) meeting. You scanned the images of Maxwell in front of you, his eyes wide with a madness that had scared you at the time. 

You remember the day in pieces, mostly because you were drunk, partly because you would rather forget what you had _almost_ wished for. You heard the promises Maxwell had spoken to you through the television screen, had been ready to make your wish before you passed out, the empty bottle of cheap whiskey smashing to the floor the last thing you heard before you woke up the next day thinking you had dreamt the whole _world coming to an end_ thing. When you found out it hadn’t been a dream, you witnessed the world trying to piece itself back together again and you vowed to do the same. No more drinking yourself to near death, no more feeling sorry for yourself. You promised to pick yourself up and start afresh and that’s exactly what you did.

And you waited, and waited, and waited some more until finally Maxwell Lord called your phone and unknowingly gave you the second chance you needed. 

You sighed and gathered all your research into a folder, leaving your notepad out to make some notes. This was just the second chance you needed, and you weren’t going to mess it up.

-

Stepping up to the apartment building you felt butterflies flying around in your stomach, nervous like it was your first day at work, which it kind of was. You hugged the folder to your chest and checked the time on your watch, you were fifteen minutes early. 

The building wasn’t as imposing as you imagined. Maxwell had chosen somewhere quiet, away from the busy city, surrounded instead by parks and tall trees that hid the neighbourhood from outsiders. Looking at the buzzers there were only ten apartments, two on each floor, occupied by equally wealthy inhabitants if the posh cars parked outside were anything to go by. You saw movement out the corner of your eye and turned to see a black, shiny car pulling up a few feet away. A woman in a red power suit, sporting a carefully created perm got out, peeling down her large sunglasses to the tip of her nose to give you a once over with a look of disdain that made you want the ground to swallow you up. 

You quickly turned and pressed the number ten buzzer on the wall, hoping Maxwell wouldn’t delay because you were early. When his voice came through the tinny speaker you let out a sigh of relief and spoke your name.

“Come on up, the elevator is working for once,” Maxwell buzzed the door open for you and you hurried inside, not daring to look if the woman was still watching you. 

When you got to Maxwell’s apartment he was already waiting for you, propped up against the doorway, welcoming you with a shy smile. He looked good, dressed up in a pale green spotted shirt, dark green suspenders and navy suit trousers but forgoing the jacket and instead rolling up his sleeves to set the tone for a casual meeting. 

You walked over from the elevator, holding out a hand which he shook.

“Lawyer! I have been eager to meet with you all morning. Come, I have coffee waiting for you,” his enthusiasm was contagious and you found your nervousness fading away the closer you got to the smell of freshly brewed coffee. 

Your eyes moved around the open plan apartment. It was nicer than yours and you wondered how he could afford it given his current situation. But as you took a closer look at the ornaments on the shelves you realised it was all an illusion. The decorative figurines were plastic and the fur rug under the coffee table was fake. On first glance the room was impressive but on closer inspection it spoke of Maxwell’s downfall. 

You watched as he ushered you over to sit on the couch, pouring you a cup of coffee from the cafetière. 

“Sugar? Milk?” He asked, pointing to the cubes of sugar and a little jug with milk in. You nodded to both. “I see you’ve got a very big folder.”

You laughed, placing the folder on the floor by your feet and taking the coffee from him, noting the lack of rings on his fingers that he always seemed to wear in pictures. You wondered if he had to pawn them. 

“Research mostly,” you smiled. Your knees were practically touching as he turned his whole body to face you. This close, you could see the bags under his eyes and the wary look of a man who was afraid. He was wringing his hands together and shifting, trying to get comfortable on the couch as he awaited your professional opinion. “I’m not a lawyer, by the way,” you referred to the way he greeted you at the door.

“Ah, but you were once?”

You nodded, placing your half empty cup of coffee on the table.

“Former family lawyer,” you swallowed the lump in your throat at the memories, looking away from Maxwell when you spoke, “high profile clients, but I dabbled with disputes within family businesses, so that’s why I can do this now.”

Maxwell hummed in response, convinced enough for you to silently let out the breath you had been holding. You hoped he wouldn’t ask any more questions which, thankfully, he didn’t, too preoccupied with his own problems.

“So, what do you think?” Maxwell opened his arms, eyebrows raised and a hopeful look crossing his features that contrasted with the way his jaw was clenched in preparation for the worst, “please tell me I’m not a completely lost cause,” he guffawed humourlessly. 

“It’s going to be difficult,” you began softly as you clasped your hands together in your lap. Maxwell slapped his hands on his knees, louder than he intended, his expression becoming more serious. “The thing is, the world is still piecing itself back together after what you did. Black Gold is bust and when people think of that name they think of you and what happened. I don’t think it’s ever going to recover from that.”

“There must be something I can do. My savings will only last so long. I have a son…” Maxwell’s hands shook as he carded them through his hair, his emotions spiralling from calm to panic to frustration, with himself. He had done this, he had ruined everything, and he would have to pay the price, he realised. 

“What is it you actually want, Mr Lord?” You asked, taking the notepad and pen out of your folder and flipping to a blank page. “Is it money? Is it stability? Being famous again?”

“No,” Maxwell waved his finger in the air at you, “never again, I would rather not a single person knew my name ever again.”

“Then what motivates you? Why did you want me to help you?”

“Alistair.” Theres a pause before Maxwell looks up from his hunched over state. Theres a redness around his eyes where he’s rubbed them in his frustration and his voice cracks when he says his son’s name again, though he fights it to stay strong. “Alistair is the only reason I haven’t given up. He needs a strong father who he can be proud of. He still looks at me like I matter. I can’t let him down again.”

Maxwell stands up, hands on his hips as he paces from the couch to the television, back and forth whilst he collects his thoughts. Meanwhile, you are sat watching him, spinning the pen in your fingers as you think of a solution. 

“Oil is out of the question,” you say cautiously, running various options through your head as Maxwell shakes his in agreement, “neither is setting up another business, nobody trusts you,” it sounded cruel but you were talking from experience. 

You see Maxwell jump at a sound coming from outside, a car back firing perhaps, but it was loud enough to make the grown man look like a frightened wild animal in a cage. You knew then you couldn’t expect much of him in this state, least of all make up a business plan together.

“Maxwell,” you called his name quietly, rising from the couch and toeing off your heels to pad softly across the floor towards him, “come sit down, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Maxwell turned to you with a deep sigh, knowing he was spiralling towards a panic attack. It had happened more than once since the incident, when his self-deprecating thoughts overrode his sensibles ones. He allowed you to guide him back to the couch with a hand on his arm, the first human contact he’d had since his hug with Alistair. Your touch sent a pleasant warmth up his arm towards his chest, calming his mind enough to concentrate on breathing to settle his racing heart. 

You left him there for a moment, grabbing a glass from a cupboard and filling it with water. Leaning back against the counter you observed him, head resting on the back of the couch, eyes closed, taking deep breaths. You realised he was going to need more help than you originally believed. You would have to build him up from the bottom, get his self belief back, show him there was still a way to make his son proud without being _the_ Maxwell Lord, businessman and entrepreneur. 

Looking around at his home you saw that Maxwell still wanted to create an air of splendour and give the impression he was doing better than he was. He was still holding onto the hope that he could be the great man he always wanted to be. It was going to be hard to get through to him that it just wasn’t possible after what he did. Maybe refocussing his goals on his son instead of money, you could help him.

Maxwell looked at you, a look of embarrassment flooding his features as he went to smooth down his ruffled, out of place hair. You hurried over and handed him the glass of water. 

“I’m going to help you Maxwell,” you promised, kneeling down by the arm of the couch and fixing him with a confident stare, “but you need to wait this out.”

You pulled open your folder, showing him the numerous newspapers and magazines you had brought with you.

“None of these say a nice thing about you.” Maxwell sucked in a breath at the sight. “I’m sorry to be blunt with you, but I think you need to understand it’s going to get worse before it gets better. But it will get better, I’m sure of it.”

Maxwell nodded and his body seemed to deflate into the couch, his now empty glass falling out of his hand to the couch cushion next to him. 

“How can you be so sure?” He sounded so vulnerable you didn’t have the heart to tell him you were only being hopeful. You weren’t relying on your experience, _that_ was no better than relying on a prayer. So you smiled your best smile and placed a hand on his knee, giving a small squeeze of comfort.

“I just know. Because it can’t get worse than this, can it?” 

“No,” Maxwell scoffed, leaning forward, “so what do you suggest we do, lawyer?”

You smirked at his nickname for you and took out a piece of paper from your folder.

“If you want money, stocks are the best thing right now. Invest what little you have, make quick turn arounds for small profits. With your business brain and knowledge, you’ll be good at that.”

“Isn’t that risky?” He asked, looking through the list of potential investments, already seeing some good names he could get behind.

“Yes, if you don’t know what you’re doing. You’ve been in this game for years, Maxwell, it’ll be easy.”

The light was coming back into Maxwell’s eyes at your suggestion, his mind naturally working out the pros and cons of investing into each company on the list, humming and harring as he read through. 

“What do you think?” You ventured after a moment of quiet. When he looked at you, he nodded and grinned, a small burst of laughter left his chest.

“I think you have given me the first ray of hope in a long time.” 

-

After another hour of talking business, Maxwell felt like the weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders, if only for a while. He knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, investing was hit and miss at the best of times, but he knew you were right. He couldn’t be Maxwell Lord right now, nobody was going to hire him and opening up his own business would be a car crash of epic proportions. He would just have to be patient a little longer. 

He stood by his window looking down as you exited the building, folder in hand and a confident sway in your walk. He liked you. He wasn’t sure if it was the hope you had left in his heart at the prospect of things looking up for him. It might have been the way you’d easily calmed him down when he was becoming overwhelmed. 

Either way, Maxwell felt that his head was clearer and his heart was fuller, and that was thanks to you.

Though there was one thing that he couldn’t shake off, and that was the way you’d reacted to him calling you _‘lawyer’_ , as though you were ashamed of the title. Being a lawyer was something to be proud of, wasn’t it? A highly respected career that you… quit to become a business adviser? Maxwell frowned at the thought, not able to quit his train of thought. Something wasn’t right. 

Maxwell remembered the folder of research you had compiled of him, and decided he needed to do his own research on you.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell finds out your secret and confronts you about it.

It was like the floor had been wiped out from under Maxwell’s feet, the wind knocked from his lungs. Had he seriously made a mistake again? Was his judgement really that skewed that once more he had done what he thought was right and it was turning out to be wrong? You had been so unassuming, the first to be truly kind to Maxwell when you could have been like everybody else. There had to be more to the story, surely?

It hadn’t taken Maxwell long to find your old place of work in the telephone directory. He had spent the morning finding law firms specialising in family law, and rang them one by one asking whether they had previously employed you and had hit the correct one on the sixth try.

_Myles and Cooper_ were a family law firm in the centre of Washington D.C. The secretary who spoke to Maxwell had given him the spiel on when it had been established and what they could offer potential clients but he hadn’t really been listening. And as soon as he had mentioned your name the sickly sweet old woman had quickly turned sour. 

“Look, we’ve put out all the press statements we have, you’re not getting any more on the story.”

Maxwell frowned. Press statements? He knew there had been more to the story you were refusing to tell him, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and the feeling of being left in the dark was beginning to frustrate him. 

“I’m no journalist. I have recently employed your former colleague-“

“Oh you haven’t, have you? Dear me, do you not read the local newspapers?”

Maxwell bit his tongue at being interrupted, tapping impatiently on the arm of the couch he sat on. 

“I’ve been a little busy lately, would you mind telling me what happened?”

The woman on the other end gave an exasperated sigh.

“Will you be requiring any services from _Myles and Cooper_?” 

“What? No-“

“Then go to your local library and you’ll find out.” And with that the connection was cut off.

Maxwell took a second to stare at the handset before slamming down the phone and making a mental note to never employ that particular law firm in the future.

But that was how he came to be hidden in the shadowy back corner of his local library, a table to himself with various newspapers dating from 25th April, all the way up to the last article he could find with your name in it on 10th July. 

Maxwell knew how the media worked, the sensationalist headlines, the hyperbolic language, even the pictures they used of you, it was all contrived to make you into someone you weren’t. Usually someone worse, and he was ashamed to say it was working.

_**Shameful Lawyer Wins Case in Favor of Unfit Mother** _

Maxwell re-read the headline on the front of the earliest newspaper. It was tame compared to some of the later articles that unnecessarily picked apart your personal life and painted you as a heartless witch who hated children. In the short time he had met you Maxwell couldn’t believe any of that was true. 

Or maybe that was exactly who you were and Maxwell had been fooled. He _had_ been desperate when he called you up, was practically begging for _anyone_ to help him. Was this just an elaborate way of making him pay for all he’d done? Get close enough to him to give him false hope then tear him down even further? And he had fallen hook, line and sinker.

“I’m being paranoid, you can’t be as bad as this,” Maxwell mumbled to himself, eyes flicking over the pictures of you shielding from the flashing lights of the cameras, hiding behind your purse, head in your hands in coffee shops and even one picture of you sticking up a pixelated middle finger to the press. 

Maxwell had been scared before, anxious at times especially in recent weeks, but he wasn’t going to add ‘paranoid’ to his growing list of problems. Pulling up the hood of his coat, Maxwell knew he had to get your side of the story.

-

You hadn’t expected to meet Maxwell again so soon, but he had been insistent on the phone, demanding to see you that evening over an ‘urgent matter’ that he had to talk to you about in person. You had left his apartment the day before on such good terms that you weren’t worried. 

That was until you reached his door. He hadn’t been waiting for you like the first time so you had to knock and wait. When he opened the door he did so slowly, features emotionless, eyes not able to meet yours as he indicated to you to follow him inside. 

He didn’t say a word when you entered the apartment and headed towards the couch. 

“Has something happened?” You enquired, matching Maxwell’s stance when he stayed standing in the middle of the living room. His arms were crossed, hair slightly out of place as though he didn’t take the time to do much more than comb through it this morning. Something was on his mind and you hoped it wasn’t what you feared.

“I want to hear you say it. I want to know what _your_ truth is.” Maxwell’s voice was stern but not unfair, you imagined it was his ‘dad’ voice whenever Alistair had done something naughty. It made you feel so small, pathetic even, that of all the people to be talking down to you it was Public Enemy Number One. 

You knew then that he had found out. And he saw that recognition in your eyes when you guiltily slumped down onto the arm of the couch, making yourself physically smaller under his intense scrutiny. Maxwell chuckled humorlessly and that made you sit up, a look of defiance taking over. Who was this man to judge you? When he didn’t know the full story, when he knew perfectly well what it was like to have the world against you? 

“It’s not what the papers say,” you stressed, swallowing down the lump in your throat before continuing, “I took on a case that had been passed on and on and that should have been the first indication that it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You couldn’t bare to look into Maxwell’s penetrating stare, but you saw his shoulders relax as you started to talk, encouraging you to keep going. 

“The case was a woman with three children, she’d already divorced her husband and wanted full custody of them. She claimed her ex was abusive, an alcoholic, that she was terrified of what he would do to the children if he was left alone with them. It was all lies. I didn’t realise this until it was too late.”

Maxwell quietly sat on the other end of the couch whilst you spoke, listening intently as you tried to keep your emotions under control and the shake out of your voice. 

“I only saw the ex-husband for the first time on day one of court. But I knew immediately she had been lying. Whilst she spent most of the time applying her make-up to look good for the judge, he was a complete mess. He couldn’t look away from his children. I felt terrible in that courtroom. But I had a job to do. I couldn’t have backed out of it if I tried.”

You shook your head, reliving the memories of that case like it was happening all over again. You dared to look up, to see disgust in Maxwell’s face but all you saw was understanding. 

“But you won the case?” Maxwell asked. You nodded.

“I had good evidence. Pictures of bruises on her arms, property damage in their shared home. Even character witnesses that painted her as the perfect wife. She was very good at playing a character. It was all lies to get her own way. I mean, who wasn’t going to believe her?”

“The press.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, moving to sit beside Maxwell when the arm became too uncomfortable, “there were a couple of journalists in particular, I can’t remember their names. They had tried to get in touch with me during the case but I ignored them, which made it look like I knew the truth and didn’t care what they had to say. As soon as the case was won, they were out for my head. They had evidence of their own, you see, that showed exactly what she was like. Paparazzi shots, secret recordings, stuff like that.”

“But you didn’t know, how was any of that your fault?”

“I won the case, everyone said I must have known. And honestly? I just didn’t bother to correct them. I felt like such a fucking idiot, Max. I should have known! So I hid myself away afterwards. My life was invaded, my career was in ruins so I hid.”

It wasn’t lost on either of you that this was the exact reaction Maxwell had to his own life being turned upside down. You shared a knowing glance, to which Maxwell reached over to place his warm hand on top of yours in comfort.

“I am sorry that happened to you,” Maxwell whispered, patting your hand before removing it, “but…” You watched as Maxwell bit his lip.

“What is it?” You frowned, not liking where this was going. Maxwell turned and offered you a sympathetic smile.

“I am sorry for what you’ve been through, truly, but how will it look if it gets out of all the people helping me… it’s _you?_ ”

You immediately felt your walls go back up, involuntarily shifting away from Maxwell on the couch.

“No one else is going to help you, are they?” It was more of a statement than a question, defensive in the face of Maxwell’s question. You felt anger rising as Maxwell continued to bite his lip and ponder what to do about the situation. You weren’t going to beg him to keep employing you, your pride wouldn’t allow that, but you weren’t going to leave without a fight either.

“You understand my predicament-“

“I understand you asked me here to listen to my side of the story, what more do you want?”

“I need somebody on my side that I can trust.”

“You _can_ trust me!”

“I need somebody reliable, somebody who is good at their job.”

“I was _brilliant_ at my job, it was one mistake-“

“That cost you _everything_!” 

Maxwell’s outburst made you leap from the couch away from him in frustration. You didn’t need to hear what you’d already told yourself hundreds of times. You knew you’d messed up, and you were here to put things right, to move on with your life. You took Maxwell’s case to help him as well as yourself, and here he was throwing it back in your face. 

“We are both in the same situation,” you replied calmly, hoping to quell the heated atmosphere, “we both need each other to pick the other up from where we’ve put ourselves. Nobody else will help you Maxwell because nobody else understands what you’re going through better than me.”

Maxwell, still seated on the far side of the couch, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes to the floor as he listened to your reasoning. He couldn’t disagree, but he was also scared. All he saw when he closed his eyes was the face of his boy looking up to him, he was so scared of letting him down. 

It was so long before either of you made a noise that you decided leaving would be the best thing to do. Let Maxwell calm down and come to you when he was ready. You didn’t want to push your luck too much with him. 

As you turned to leave you passed a pile of unopened letters on a table near the front door. You hadn’t meant to look, it was a quick glance whilst you took your time to leave his apartment (a small part of you hoped he would call out your name to stop you before you reached the door). You recognised the solicitors mark on the front of the envelope and the name above it, _Spencer and Brown_ , a family law firm that were close rivals to _Myles and Cooper_. 

There was only one reason a family law firm would be in contact with Maxwell, his son.

You could have left it, Maxwell didn’t trust you and you doubted he wanted you poking into his personal business, especially when it came to Alistair. But you wanted to help him. Not out of pity, or even to prove that you could, it definitely wasn’t out of desperation for employment anymore either. 

You liked Maxwell. 

It really hit you as you stood in his entryway, heart heavy with disappointment at Maxwell’s shunning of you, head aching from your argument and the prospect of going home sad and alone. It wasn’t as shocking as you thought it should be, after all what was there to like about the man who nearly destroyed the world? 

It wasn’t _that_ Maxwell that you liked though. It was this version of him, who had been kind to you when he hadn’t known your secret. The man who loved his son and wanted to be a better role model for him. The Maxwell who could be charming but not ashamed to be vulnerable in front of you. And because it was _that_ man you were stupidly falling for, you knew you had to at least try to persuade him to let you help him.

“Maxwell,” you called, picking up the letter and walking back to the living room where Maxwell was pouring himself a glass out of a decanter. 

“You need to go,” he didn’t sound convincing though so you held up the letter to get his attention. He raised an eyebrow, curious as to what you thought you were doing with his mail.

“I can help you,” you urged, head held high and ready to stand your ground, “I might be a terrible person but I was _really_ brilliant at my job.”

“You’re not-“ Maxwell began, before sighing in defeat before the battle had even begun. Maxwell swallowed his drink in one go and took the letter out of your hand. You watched as he opened it and read through it half-heartedly, though you saw a spark of sadness in his eyes.

“Is it Alistair’s mother?” You asked impatiently.

“Yes. She wants full custody.”

“Okay, well considering this is very special circumstances,” Maxwell frowned, silently asking what you meant, “I don’t think anyone has fought a case on the basis of ‘my ex-husband failed on his quest for world domination’, so you can use that to your advantage.”

“Listen, I know you’re trying to help me but you can’t win this for me.” 

You ignored him and asked, “When was the last time you spoke to her?”

Maxwell paused, mulling it over before shaking his head, already knowing what you were going to suggest.

“Weeks ago, she won’t talk to me unless it’s through her lawyer.”

“Then we need to arrange a meeting. We need to show her that you’re serious about turning over a new leaf for Alistair. We can’t do that without sitting down with her.”

Maxwell didn’t look convinced, his frown creating creases on his face that made you want to smooth them away. Clearing your throat you stepped away from Maxwell, feigning deep thought. You needed to keep this professional, you reminded yourself. Otherwise you would only get your heart broken. 

“You’ll help me?” You almost didn’t hear him he spoke so quietly. You nodded, a meek smile on your lips and offered him your hand to shake, just as you had the first time you met. Maxwell huffed in amusement and took your hand, allowing his to linger in yours a little longer than necessary.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell meets his ex-wife for the first time in a month, but can they remain civil?

Shaky fingers pulled at the tape and opened the flaps of the cardboard box. After much deliberation, Maxwell decided to open the only unopened box in his new apartment, the one filled with memories of a time when everything was peachy, the one he had wanted to open first but had no reason to. 

At the top of the pile was a well loved purple and green triceratops teddy bear, body rough from being handled for so many years, the paint on the plastic eyes worn off until they were just black ovals. It was Alistair’s first toy, brought by Maxwell out of a catalogue early on in the pregnancy. His wife had laughed, not even passed the first trimester, when Maxwell had presented it to her. When she had gone into labor the dinosaur, later named Tim, had been gripped in the hand not holding Maxwells. It held a special place in his heart.

Alistair’s walkman was in the box too, a bag of lollipops, a wind up car that Maxwell hadn’t seen him play with in years. One side of the box was filled to the top with books, mostly non-fiction, all to do with space. He was a smart kid, top of his class, Maxwell had no idea where he got it from but it always made his chest puff out in pride when he got his school report that said what a star student he was. 

The box was full of stuff Alistair had left lying around Maxwell’s previous apartment, down the back of the couch, underneath beds, even the back of the food cupboard though god knows how. It was ready to be opened when Alistair came to stay, but obviously that never happened. 

But you had given Maxwell hope that he could unpack the box in the near future. 

Maxwell looked around the spare room that would be Alistair’s one day. E.T bedding covered the small bed in the corner, a suitcase with spare clothes in sat zipped up underneath the bed. The walls remained pale giving the room a lifeless feel, the cream carpet was what was put down before Maxwell had moved in. Maxwell was waiting for Alistair to choose the paints and the colors, to make it his own so he’d want to visit as often as possible. 

A knock on the front door startled Maxwell. It would be you, coming to pick him up for the dreaded meeting. A part of him wanted to hide in this room, avoid facing the music of his ex-wife telling everybody what an unfit father he was, but all he had to do was think of Alistair and he was moving through his apartment in haste. 

When he opened the door he had to muffle his gasp of awe. You were smiling at him, pleasant and warm, bringing comfort to his increasingly nervous state. You were wearing a simple red dress that hugged the curves of your body, cut just above the knee, under a boxy black suit jacket, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. You looked professional, but friendly, beautiful yet sophisticated. You were perfect in Maxwell’s eyes. 

“That’s sweet,” you said, pointing to the dinosaur Maxwell hadn’t realised he still held in his hand. 

“I was going through some of Alistair’s things,” Maxwell muttered, leading you through the apartment, “I will get my jacket and we can go.”

He entered his bedroom, grabbing the jacket and leaving the dinosaur on the chest of drawers.

“I will be back, hopefully with good news,” Maxwell whispered to the dinosaur, chuckling to himself, “if I hadn’t gone mad before I definitely have now.”

He found you leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed with a pensive look on your face. 

“What is it?” Maxwell asked, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest.

“Alistair won’t be there.”

“What do you mean? Where else could he be?”

“She doesn’t want you to see him until all of this is sorted. He’s with her parents.”

Maxwell stopped himself from clenching his fist in anger. He hadn’t thought he’d get to bring Alistair home with him today, he wasn’t _that_ optimistic, but he thought he’d at least get to see him. 

“I’m sorry, I tried-“

Maxwell held his hand up for you to stop, picking up his wallet and keys from the dish on the side table and heading towards the door.

“No matter, I will see him soon enough,” Maxwell called over his shoulder, opening the door for you to walk through. This meeting had to go well, he thought.

-

 _Spencer and Brown_ family law firm consisted of lawyers who surfed the wave of success from the moment they were born into their wealthy families, who had never known the struggle of working two part times jobs whilst battling through law school, had never had to continuously prove their worth, just had to show people their daddy’s surname and flash everybody their cash and _always_ got their own way. 

Mr McGuiness was a balding, middle aged man with a hefty moustache that covered his upper lip. His suit was immaculate, what little hair he had left was gelled back and dyed unnaturally black, his beady eyes carefully inspected you the moment you had entered the private room at the back of the restaurant. You wouldn’t let it phase you, in fact you’d already decided not to give him a moments notice.

You knew his type. He would try to talk down to you, treat you like the weak willed woman he expected you to be. He would be patronising and dismissive and you weren’t going to waste your energy butting heads with him. Instead you’d focus your attention at the ex Mrs Lord. 

You could see exactly why Maxwell had loved her once upon a time. She was naturally beautiful with bright hazel eyes that looked at Maxwell with sadness and disappointment. She wore little make-up, and her dress sense was reserved but she loved her jewellery. Her neck was encircled with a gold band with studded diamonds and her fingers were decorated with sparkling rings with large stones. You were surprised she could walk under all the weight. 

Before anybody could tell you where to sit you stood opposite Mrs Lord who was already sat on the other side of the table, before Maxwell pulled out the chair for you. You hadn’t expected him to, but you shot him a grateful smile and took your seat. 

Maxwell sat next to you, opposite Mr McGuiness who immediately took control and waved down a waiter.

“Even if we don’t get to the food, I thought we could all benefit with some good wine,” Mr McGuiness gave a hollow laugh and opened up the file in front of him.

“Can I begin,” Maxwell cleared his throat and directed his words to Mrs Lord, “thank you for agreeing to this. I really want to keep things civil between us, for Alistair.”

“If you would like to say something, Mr Lord, you should be reminded that as Mrs Lord’s lawyer-“

“The whole point of this meeting was for Mr and Mrs Lord to have a conversation with one another, so why don’t we let that happen.” You gave Mr McGuiness a sarcastic smile, who responded by clacking his teeth shut melodramatically. Maxwell nodded his thanks and reached for his freshly poured glass of wine. When he didn’t move to speak anymore, you took the reins and decided to lead the meeting before Mr McGuiness could. 

“Mrs Lord,” you leaned forward on the table, smiling softly at the woman who held all the cards, “as you know, I will be representing Maxwell today. We want to keep this friendly, and hopefully by the end of the meeting we will all be able to come to some sort of arrangement when it comes to Alistair.”

Mrs Lord had kept quiet, a thoughtful look to her as she surveyed you and Maxwell together. Now you were close to her, you could see her calm exterior shatter, her eyes flicking between each person at the table, as she finally understood she would have to speak. She had let her lawyer deal with everything up until this point, and that was probably why nothing had been done. She sat up and took a swig of wine before speaking.

“I don’t want Alistair anywhere near my ex-husband.”

You heard Maxwell suck in a breath, and out the corner of your eye you saw a satisfied smirk appear on Mr McGuiness’ face. It was like a pressurised container in the room and the slightest friction was going to set something, or someone, off.

“Mrs Lord, why is that?” You asked, unflustered by the atmosphere. 

“Isn’t it obvious? Didn’t you see him on every television in the world? He’s dangerous,” Mrs Lord took a deep breath and another gulp of wine, refusing to look in Maxwell’s direction. 

“Has Maxwell ever given you cause for concern when it comes to Alistair’s safety?”

Mrs Lord chuckled dryly, but found she couldn’t come up with an answer. You knew she wouldn’t be able to. Maxwell was a lot of things, but even in the short amount of time you’d known him, his love for his son was obvious. And Mrs Lord knew this too as she shook her head.

“And what of Alistair? Has he ever mentioned that day to you, Mrs Lord?”

She looked over at Maxwell then, who was trying to put on a brave face but was failing spectacularly. It was killing him to hear that the woman he once loved was scared to let him see his own son. He was holding in the tears but his bottom lip was wobbling as he chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep some semblance of control. He wished he still had the toy dinosaur on his person, something to hold onto, to ground him as he battled with his emotions.

“He hasn’t. But he misses his daddy,” Mrs Lord whispered, embarrassed to admit that she was hurting Alistair by keeping him from seeing his father. 

Mr McGuiness turned in his seat to whisper something into Mrs Lord’s ear. You saw the conflict in her eyes as she listened. When silence came back to the room, you took the opportunity to plead Maxwell’s case before Mrs Lord could make up her mind.

“I have known Mr Lord for a few weeks now. I’ve been helping him get back on his feet and find a way for him to be financially stable so that he can be in a position to be in his sons life again. Everything he’s doing is for Alistair. I don’t think that sounds like a terrible father, does it?”

“With all due respect we’ve all seen what kind of man Mr Lord is. We’re not just assessing what kind of father he is, but what kind of _person_ he is,” Mr McGuiness interrupted.

“It’s not our job to assess anything, merely present the facts.”

“And the facts suggest that Alistair is safer where he is.”

“The facts are,” you turned to Mrs Lord, reminding yourself that you weren’t going to rise to Mr McGuiness’ bate, “Maxwell has a new apartment with a bedroom waiting for Alistair to stay when you say he can, he has savings that make him comfortable for the foreseeable future, and I can attest to his sound of mind.”

You ignored Mr McGuiness’ sarcastic laughter and set your pleading gaze on Mrs Lord who was mulling over your words. 

“May I speak for myself?” You turned sharply to see Maxwell fidgeting in his seat, debating whether to speak up or let you continue to speak for him. In your determination to do a good job of getting Maxwell what he wanted, you had almost forgotten he was in the same room as you. 

You nodded your encouragement and sat back in your seat to let him speak. 

Maxwell clasped his hands together and placed them in his lap. 

“I have failed as a father.” Your eyes widened at his damning confession, but when you began to say something in his defence Maxwell held up a hand to stop you, “I cannot sit here and play the victim, I must tell the truth if there is to be trust between us.” Maxwell directed that last bit to Mrs Lord who was hanging onto his every word, a lump in her throat as she witnessed the first honest thing that had come out of her ex husband’s mouth in years. 

“I have failed to be the father Alistair needs. I was thoughtless and greedy in my attempts to be the best and I mistakingly assumed my actions would make me a better father. I know now that all Alistair needed, no, all he _wanted_ was to have me around.” 

When Maxwell looked over the table he saw tears running down Mrs Lord’s cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, trying to pretend they weren’t there as she looked to her lawyer.

Mr McGuiness subtly shook his head, urging her not to give into her emotions, but she knew the ramifications if she refused to allow Maxwell to see his son again. Alistair was devoted to his father, and he would grow to resent his mother in the long term if he had to wait until he was eighteen to see Maxwell again. And frankly, Mrs Lord wasn’t an unreasonable woman. She was scared, yes, but not a bitch. She didn’t want to rip Alistair from Maxwell’s life permanently. 

“Catherine,” Maxwell said gently, and the use of her first name made up her mind.

“We will take it one week at a time,” Mrs Lord tried to sound stern but it fell short.

Maxwell nodded enthusiastically and shuffled forward on his seat. He would agree to anything at this point, _anything_ to see his Alistair again.

“Half a day a week. And not on your own.”

“I can be there, if you’re unavailable,” you interjected, eager to make this work for Maxwell. You had clocked the way his right leg was bouncing underneath the table. Maxwell was nervous, of Mrs Lord changing her mind? Of saying the wrong thing? You didn’t know, maybe both.

Mrs Lord drew up a one page written contract there and then, stating that Maxwell would be allowed to see Alistair every Saturday afternoon with either her or yourself present and if anything should happen in that time that made Maxwell look like an unfit father, or if any harm came to Alistair, those rights would be revoked. You assumed the next step would be a court case, but you doubted it would come to that. 

You finished your glass of wine and gave a tight, professional smile to Mr McGuiness before shaking Mrs Lord’s hand.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered as you led her towards the door of the meeting room.

“Honestly, I don’t think this would have happened if you hadn’t have forced it. I was seriously considering never letting Alistair anywhere near Maxwell ever again.” 

Mrs Lord left before you could think of a reply. 

You shut the door and turned to see Maxwell looking at you, perched on the edge of the table with his hands in the pockets of his pants. 

“Thank you.”

You bit your lip, suddenly shy under the intense gaze of the man you were falling for. You could say that you did it to make him happy, to help him stitch his life back together starting with reuniting him with his son. Instead, you told him what you were trying to drill into your own head.

“I was just doing my job.” 

Maxwell scoffed, standing to his full height as he took slow, decisive steps towards you. It made your heart quicken.

“You’re not a lawyer anymore,” he reminded you, his voice lower, deeper than you were familiar with, but perhaps you were imagining it.

“It felt good though, to be doing that again. It came naturally to me to be fighting your corner,” you babbled, trying to ignore the fact Maxwell was basically toe to toe with you. 

Maxwell smiled tenderly, placing a large hand on your wrist and rubbing his thumb against your pulse point. It was only a small gesture, to show his gratefulness, to show he cared, but it left you confused and in two minds. You were in his life in a professional capacity after all, you couldn’t allow yourself to think there was more to this gesture than simply a client showing his appreciation. That was all it was, wasn’t it?

You stepped back, accidentally bumping into the door which made you jump away from it and closer to Maxwell than you had been before. Maxwell caught you in his arms to steady you, his hands catching you around the elbows, and then he soothed your steadily rising panic by gently rubbing up and down your upper arms. 

“I am indebted to you, lawyer.” Maxwell smoothly switched your places, like a choreographed dance move, and slipped out the door. 

You blinked twice before groaning in distress. You were completely gone for him. You couldn’t believe your stupidity. Falling for a client was the number one unspoken rule in law school. One you never thought you’d break for any man. 

You looked to the table and saw a nearly full bottle of red wine still sitting there. Technically you had this room for another half hour. You were sure you could finish the bottle in that time.


	5. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell takes you to a business gala, explains what happened on _that_ unusual day, and meets a familiar face. But not everything goes according to plan.

A month passes in a flurry of meetings and spontaneous lunches with Maxwell, and being the odd one out whilst he spent his half a day a week with Alistair (Mrs Lord had decided that she trusted you enough to leave her son under your care). Though, by the third week Alistair had began to warm up to you, asking you questions and thrusting toys into your arms, urging you to join in the fun on the living room floor with him and his father. 

Most of Maxwell’s conversations with you were about Alistair, or how well his new investments were doing. You didn’t elect to bring up what had happened in the restaurant a month ago, where he had you blabbering like an idiot with a silly schoolgirl crush, and he didn’t bring it up. You thought he might’ve, that it was maybe an indication that _something_ was brewing between the two of you, but perhaps you were mistaken.

Though you noticed his hand would linger on the small of your back long after he had ushered you through a door, and he’d taken to kissing you on the cheek, a whispered ‘thank you’ on a Saturday afternoon when Mrs Lord had picked up Alistair and your work there was done. 

But it was always respectful, _professional_. 

One Monday you arrived at Maxwell’s apartment for lunch. Though you didn’t meet everyday, Maxwell was sure to telephone you most days and the night before he had been eager to have lunch with you to discuss something important. You begged him to tell you over the phone but he insisted he wanted to tell you in person. The excitement in his voice had you grinning and accepting his invitation easily. 

He pulled you over to the island in the middle of the kitchen when you arrived and you saw it was lined with buttered toast and various jams, a cafetière filled with fresh coffee, plain croissants and a bowl of fruit. 

“What are you up to?” You asked, teasing him and roaming you eyes over the delicious food as you took a seat. 

“Must I be up to something to treat my favourite lawyer?” Maxwell looked genuinely affronted at your accusations before the mask slipped and a cheeky smile appeared on his lips. He fetched a bottle of milk from the fridge and a small saucer with sugar cubes on and placed them down next to your mug before taking his seat opposite you.

“Either that or you’re about to fire me,” you winked as you took a bite of your toast. 

“Absolutely not! It would be like shooting myself in the foot.”

It wasn’t the most obvious of compliments but it still had you finding your slice of toast much more interesting than it was, unable to meet Maxwell’s eyes. 

“I’ve been feeling very positive lately. With seeing Alistair every week and my investments working out. I think we should do something.”

“To celebrate?” You asked inquisitively, ignoring the part where he said ‘we’.

“Sort of,” Maxwell left his place at the island and picked up a pamphlet off a side table in the living room, “I saw this when I was out getting groceries. I would like to take you.”

Maxwell handed you the pamphlet. You curiously scanned the fancy writing, the black and gold color scheme, the illustration of a woman in a beautiful gown. It was a gathering of local business owners raising money for charity, or more accurately an excuse to dress up and have a party.

“There will be opportunities to schmooze and swap business cards but most importantly there will be dancing and copious amounts of champagne,” Maxwell seemed delighted at the idea, a hopeful look in his eyes as he watched for your reaction. 

You licked the crumbs off your finger and thumb and started to nod.

“It’ll be fun,” you wanted to match Maxwell’s excitement but you had never been to anything like this, it was a whole other world to the one you were used to. But to Maxwell, this was a taste of his old life again, the glitz and the glamor of throwing money around until it sticks. 

“It _will_ be fun. You get to dress up and show everybody in the business world that _you_ are the one to go to if they need help.”

You couldn’t help smiling bashfully. And yeah, maybe it would be nice to relax for once, let your hair down for a night, even show off a little. You were good at your job and everyone should know it.

But there was one thing nagging in the back of your mind. Maxwell had said he didn’t want this lifestyle anymore, was he really ready to go back into the limelight?

“Maxwell,” you put down the pamphlet in favor of reaching across the island and holding his hand, “are you ready for this?”

His smile dropped a fraction, a wistful look crossing his features as he gave your hand a squeeze. After a moment’s pause he spoke seriously.

“I cannot hide for the rest of my life. I must face the music one day, and what better way to do that than with a celebration?”

“But a gala for businessmen and women? You’re sure to bump into somebody you knew.”

“Perhaps. But these people won’t want to make a fuss. They’re all about appearances.”

“You’re sure?”

Maxwell chuckled, dismissing your apprehension. 

“Everything will be fine.”

You hoped he was right.

-

Four days later you were sat in the back of a car Maxwell had hired for the two of you, bouncing your leg with nerves and staring up at Maxwell’s living room window as you awaited your date for the night to leave his apartment and join you. 

You had brought your dress second hand, not sure if it was appropriate for the event or even if it was meant to match Maxwell’s outfit. You had no idea what was ‘etiquette’ at these galas, having never been to one. 

You’d found a long dark green dress with thin straps over the shoulder and gold embroidered wildflowers in random patterns all over. You’d also come across an old black clutch at the back of your wardrobe from your clubbing days to go with it. You felt beautiful getting dressed up for the first time in years, even better that it was with Maxwell.

Speaking of which, when he came through the doors of the building you audibly gasped at how handsome he looked. His sleek, black three piece suit fit perfectly to his shape, whereas his everyday suits often looked boxy this one didn’t have the over the top shoulder pads and he looked better for it, more approachable in appearance. His shirt was white and had a crimped style and instead of a normal tie he wore a mint green bowtie, a fun addition that put a smile on your face. 

Maxwell slipped into the car next to you, taking you in with a slow sweep of your outfit and an audible release of breath that had you second guessing your choices.

“You’re a sight to behold,” Maxwell admired you one last time before pointing to his bowtie and your dress, “and we almost match.”

You laughed, nerves dissipating as you allowed Maxwell’s compliment to seep in. Maxwell told the driver to drive on, unbuttoned his jacket and relaxed into his seat. He didn’t seem anxious to be going to a gala full of people. You were a little uneasy at the prospect of meeting people he might know, you had no idea how they would react to seeing him again but you were determined to have Maxwell’s back at every corner if you were met with conflict. 

When you rolled up outside the museum you had to wait for arrivals in the car in front of your own to exit before you could. You watched as the flashing lights of the photographers were blinding the people walking passed them, and it took you back to when those cameras were shoved in your face during the worst time of your life. Would these photos be publicised? What would people think about you turning up to a charity event with a disgraced ex-oil tycoon?

Maxwell shuffled to the middle seat to grasp your hand in his, calling your name to take your attention away from what was happening outside.

“Are you alright?” The concern in his voice was genuine and the hand holding yours brought you out of your spiralling thoughts. 

“I’ll be better once we’re passed them,” you pointed to the photographers but kept your eyes on Maxwell. He hummed and leaned over the front seat to whisper in the driver’s ear. Before you could question him, the car was driving away.

“Where are we going?” You asked in confusion.

“We’re going to enter round the back instead. I have some ties to this place so it should be fine,” Maxwell gave you a reassuring smile that had you instinctively leaning against his shoulder. It was comforting having Maxwell so close, you could smell his expensive cologne that reminded you of old books in a library and a little bit woodsy. Oh what you would give to be in his presence all the time. 

-

The Smithsonian was a thing of wonder, even entering through a discreet back door away from the sparkle of the main event. After charming a security guard he seemed to know, Maxwell guided you with a hand in yours through narrow nineteenth century corridors, moving closer to the loud music at the front of the building. You passed dark locked offices and hurried through rooms with posters of animals and glass cabinets filled with artefacts far beyond your understanding. 

“How do you know your way around here?” You asked as you took in your surroundings.

“I’ve been here before,” Maxwell’s reply was short, bordering on stern as he dragged you through the maze of corridors. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“No no,” Maxwell slowed down enough to bring you in step beside him, deliberately loosening his grip on your hand as he realised he had been clinging harshly and pulling you around the museum behind him. It wasn’t until you reached the gems and minerals department that you felt Maxwell stiffen up beside you.

“This is where it all began,” he confessed, pointing around the room in a generalised manner. You understood what he meant, but not knowing exactly what had gone down that day, you were confused as to how it linked in with a natural history museum. 

“What happened?” You ventured, hesitant to push too hard on the subject.

“There was a stone I’d been researching for months and I traced it back to here,” Maxwell glanced over his shoulder to a door that led into an office.

“What sort of stone?”

“A Dreamstone,” Maxwell breathed, his fingers flexing around yours, “it granted wishes,” at your sceptical look he huffed out a laugh, “I know, it’s madness but I swear it’s true.”

He wasn’t playing a practical joke on you, that much you could tell, but how could a stone make your wishes come true? You decided for the most part Maxwell was sound of mind so it must be true, somehow.

“So, you took it? And made a wish?”

“I did. I wished to become the stone, that way I could grant people’s wishes and take a wish in return. I had limitless wishes, and I used every single one of them for my own benefit, to get more rich, more powerful, more evil,” Maxwell whispered the last word as he began to walk away from the department towards another corridor. 

“You were already one of the most famous men in America, why did you need more?”

Maxwell let out a sarcastic laugh that made you jump. Thinking he’d scared you Maxwell tried to pull his hand from yours but you held tight, preventing him from doing so. 

“I told myself it was for Alistair, to give him the world if he asked for it. I’m sure you and all your goodness would say I was misguided but the truth is, I wanted it. I said to myself, why shouldn’t I have everything I’ve ever wanted? Damn the consequences.”

You shook your head, disagreeing with the harshness in Maxwell’s voice and words. He wasn’t a bad man, you _knew_ Maxwell was good at heart. The man he was describing wasn’t the man in front of you today. The man who had you entering the back of a gala because he saw how uncomfortable you were with the cameras at the front. 

“I don’t believe you,” you stated adamantly.

“No, it is all true,” Maxwell argued but you shushed him as the music and the chatter of guests was getting louder. You came to an oak door and you knew the gala was on the other side. Before you opened it you paused and turned to face Maxwell.

“I believe your story but I don’t believe for a second that you wanted to be some king of the world. Otherwise why did you stop before you went too far?”

Maxwell opened his mouth to retort but closed it again, looking like a gaping fish out of water. He couldn’t come up with an answer that suited his self-deprecating view of himself. He saw Alistair in his mind’s eye, the answer to your question, but it would only further prove your point. 

“We should go out there and enjoy ourselves, what do you think?” You asked, reaching forward to straighten up Maxwell’s bowtie. When you finished, you saw Maxwell looking at you with a sappy smile and a look you couldn’t put your finger on. Before you could ask, he offered you his arm and you took it, pushing open the oak door together. 

-

You squinted into the dim, atmospheric lighting of the large room and paused for a moment to get acquainted to the loud music from the speakers on either side of you. The space was massive and could easily accommodate a couple of hundred people. There were cabinets of artefacts along the perimeter, skeletal displays hanging down from the roof, waiters walking around with trays of champagne. It was a world far from your own but you didn’t feel uncomfortable with Maxwell by your side.

You turned to Maxwell who nodded in the direction of the bar off to the side and up some steps. You let him guide you as you surveyed the dance floor, noting the guests were in deep conversations instead of dancing. You realised that this was the time to be talking to other business owners and swapping cards.

You opened your clutch and picked out the dozen or so business cards you’d had made and showed them to Maxwell as soon as you reached the bar.

“Ah, you listened to me!” Maxwell exclaimed with a delighted grin, waving down a bartender, “what do you want?”

“A cocktail?” You weren’t sure what you could order in a museum but Maxwell understood and ordered you something you’d never heard of before.

“You’ll like it, it’s sweet,” he assured you and took one of your business cards to look over.

“Is it okay?” You asked, a tightness in your chest as you awaited his opinion. You didn’t want to look stupid in the face of the rich and powerful. 

“It’s nice, sophisticated and sleek, is that what you’re going for?”

You watched his finger trace the curvy triangle running from the top left corner of the card to the bottom right, a shiny pink against the matte black background. You nodded, certain it was exactly what you were going for. You had been a smart, capable and hard working lawyer and you wanted to bring that to your new role as a Career and Business Adviser. 

“I want to be taken seriously,” you took back the card and shuffled them into a neat pile on the bar top just as your drink was placed in front of you.

“And you will be, you can do this,” Maxwell winked and it sent a warmth throughout your body. 

When you were finished with your drink Maxwell directed you away from the bar and into the crowd. The nerves in every part of your body were on fire as you spoke to your first stranger, an older woman who owned a store in the middle of D.C. She spoke of the rising costs of renting her store and the trouble she was having attracting new customers.

You gave her advice that had her asking for your business card before you could even offer her one. 

Maxwell’s hand was a comforting presence on your back as he urged you towards different people he thought would be potential clients. Some people recognised him with a look of shock, some gave him a wide berth but most people nodded politely or didn’t give him the time of day. You were too busy concentrating on your job for the night to notice, but Maxwell was grateful that everything seemed to going smoothly for you. 

You were about to ask Maxwell if he wanted another drink when you spotted a tall, slender woman with long, wavy brunette hair on a mission to push through the crowd and reach Maxwell by any means necessary. You caught his eye, raising a questioning eyebrow but all he did was let out a long breath and face the woman who had a look of curiosity on her face. Her striking features, sharp jawline and pursed lips, set you on edge. You didn’t know whether she was going to slap Maxwell or have a very strongly worded conversation with him.

“Maxwell Lord,” she said, surprise in her tone and an accent you couldn’t place, but up close you thought she was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. When she finally took notice of you she flashed you a friendly smile that made you weak at the knees. _Who was this woman?_

“Diana,” Maxwell greeted her nervously, urging you to his side and speaking your name to Diana who welcomed you with a genuine smile.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“I could ask you the same. I thought you never attended these events.” So Maxwell was hoping to avoid this Diana, you realised. There was a tension between them that you couldn’t figure out. Were they lovers once? Enemies? It was a weird atmosphere that left you confused and feeling like a third wheel. 

“I’ve been pushing myself out of my comfort zone recently,” Diana said with an air of mystery. You looked between the two of them, a frown etched onto your face. 

Maxwell glanced at you and realised how this must seem and quickly went about to explain the situation.

“Diana helped me to see the error of my ways,” Maxwell spoke slowly, hoping to give you the hint of what he was referring to. You realised he was talking about the day he made his wishes, and this woman was the one who helped prevent him from falling deeper into the dark. 

“Oh,” you gasped, nodding in understanding as Diana smiled shyly at the two of you.

“I simply reminded him of his humanity,” Diana seemed to relax once she caught onto the fact you knew exactly what they were talking about. She eyed you with interest, no doubt wondering how you and Maxwell came to be friends in the couple of months since the incident. You didn’t feel threatened under her gaze, instead it made you stand a little taller. You were proud at how far Maxwell had come since that day, he was almost unrecognisable from the mad oil tycoon everyone saw on their televisions and you hoped Diana could see that. 

You didn’t notice how Maxwell was staring at you, a warmth settling on his chest as he admired your bravery. You could have shied away from this event, refused to attend with him and he wouldn’t have blamed you in the slightest. You were strong in the way Maxwell would never be. You didn’t need help to stand back up on your feet after everything you’ve been through, you were unafraid to walk the world with a target on your back from being seen with him. He thinks you would still stand proud, head held high even if you knew Diana’s true character. 

Diana saw the look Maxwell was giving you and took it as her cue to leave. She didn’t need to keep an eye on _this_ Maxwell Lord, not when you were there to keep him on the straight and narrow path of goodness and truth. Five minutes was all it took for Diana of Themyscira to see you were his saving grace. 

“I will leave you both to it,” Diana nodded to Maxwell and turned to leave but came to a stop just as quickly. You looked to see what she was doing and saw her wide eyes turn on Maxwell.

You weren’t sure what was going on but you knew it wasn’t good when Maxwell grabbed your hand and pulled you into his side roughly. You would have grumbled your objection but you saw the fear on his face as he frantically looked around the room. 

“What is it? What’s wrong Maxwell?” You urged him to answer you, but he didn’t need to because out of the corner of your eye you saw a man tripping towards you from the bar, clothes askew and holding an empty glass.

“You should be behind bars!” He pointed rudely at Maxwell who silently guided you to be completely shielded behind him. 

“Sir, I think you’ve had a few too many-“

“You ruined my life!” The man exclaimed. He was close enough that he would have shoved his meaty finger into Maxwell’s chest but quick as lightning Diana forced her body between the two men and had the stranger’s finger held tight in her fist.

“You don’t want to do that,” Diana spoke quietly, but there was a threatening undertone to her words that shocked you. You moved to lean into Maxwell’s ear whilst Diana tried to talk the man down.

“Let’s leave,” you said softly, seeing the sadness in Maxwell’s eyes now you were closer to him. You attempted to smile, to let him know without words that you weren’t disappointed with how the night had gone. You probably would have left soon anyway, the rude man just accelerated things. 

Maxwell held your hand once again, it was becoming an ordinary occurrence between you two, and started to guide you through the crowd.

“Oi!” You heard the drunk man shout behind you but you hoped Maxwell would ignore him. “Your wishes destroyed my life, you bastard!”

Maxwell kept walking and you kept following. The crowds parted for the two of you but they only offered you pitying looks. It made your blood boil. They saw what had happened and instead of being angry at the drunk idiot causing a scene they were sad that you were caught up in it. Caught up with Maxwell. 

You didn’t want pity and you certainly didn’t want their judgements. You would be glad to never see any of them again.

When Maxwell pulled you outside it was dark, stars twinkling in the sky, the air cool and refreshing on your burning skin. Maxwell let go of you and strode over to the car he had rented for the night, knocking on the drivers side window to wake up the driver who startled awake. 

You slowly walked over, observing as Maxwell raked a hand through his hair and refused to look at you until you were standing in front of him.

“I can’t…You need to…” Maxwell sighed heavily and frustratingly kicked a pebble into the middle of the car park.

“I need to what?”

“You need to go. Far away from me, because people like him will always be around the corner.”

“You could say that about me.”

“Yes, but it didn’t happen to you tonight, it happened to _me_ ,” Maxwell jabbed his finger into his own chest as he frantically shucked off his jacket and loosened his bowtie until both pieces of fabric were hanging down the front of his shirt. 

You remained calm, understanding Maxwell’s words stemmed from his embarrassment at the situation and not because he actually wanted you to leave. 

“You want me to leave?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Your only friend?”

“I have no friends.”

“You do, you have me.”

Maxwell paused to take in your calm features, reminding himself of what he saw earlier tonight. Your strength, your inability to back down when the going gets tough. He couldn’t push you away if he really tried, he didn’t want to, and you knew that. 

He walked around to the back door of the car and opened it.

“Get in before you catch a cold,” Maxwell ordered half-heartedly and was relieved when you complied, scooting over the seats to leave space for him to join you. 

When the driver began to drive away you shuffled into the middle seat and laid your head on Maxwell’s shoulder, relaxing once he rested his head atop yours. 

Moments later you heard Maxwell sniffle and you carefully looked up to see tears filling his eyes and threatening to spill.

“Oh Maxwell,” you whispered, sitting up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, bringing his head into the crook of your neck.

“I have ruined everything.”

“No, you’re wrong. It will get better,” you ran a hand slowly through Maxwell’s hair as you reassured him, “you were very brave tonight, to go to a gala full of people who knew who you were.”

Maxwell hugged you around the waist, holding you tightly against him, the rise and fall of your chest against his, your fingers on his scalp and the smooth motion of the travelling car calming him down. 

“I’m scared for Alistair,” Maxwell croaked out against your neck.

“What do you mean?” 

“My disgrace will follow him around. He’ll always be the son of Maxwell Lord.”

Your heart broke for your friend, but what could you say? You couldn’t predict the future, you just had to stick around to show him he was wrong.


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell is in a bit of a slump after the events of the gala, can you cheer him up?

Waking up in Maxwell’s apartment was an odd sensation. For once there were no impatient drivers angrily tooting their car horns outside to wake you up, the boiler didn’t make cranking noises all night, the fragrant candles were a constant, pleasant presence, and everywhere you went it was _warm_. For a downgrade, Maxwell was doing very well for himself indeed. 

You opened your eyes when you heard movement from the direction of Maxwell’s bedroom. You swivelled onto your stomach to look over the arm of the couch to see if he would emerge into the living room; he didn’t. 

On the coffee table was your dress, neatly folded into a green square, clutch and shoes placed on top. It took you a second to remember that you weren’t naked but had one of Maxwell’s large vests on, hastily grabbed from the clean pile of clothes on a chair in his bedroom before you left him in there, snoring into his pillow, exhausted from the night’s events. 

You thought back to the night before in the car, holding Maxwell in your arms, letting him cry out his sadness and frustrations when the perfectly happy night had taken a dark turn. Your heart had broken for him, despite everything you had done, and _were_ doing for him, you felt it wasn’t enough. He had become much more than a client now, he was your friend. 

Searching out the digital clock you saw it was just after seven in the morning. You’d make coffee and breakfast out of whatever you could find in the kitchen, you decided, and carefully sat up, experimentally rolling your shoulders and stretching your back. You hadn’t slept on a couch since you were a student but you didn’t remember it ever being _this_ painful. You refused to admit it was because you were getting older. 

You made coffee for you and Maxwell and rummaged through the cupboards to find sliced bread and eggs and went about making some very basic French toast. When you were done you placed it all on a tray and made your way over to Maxwell’s bedroom door, tapping it with your foot and calling out his name.

“I’ve made us breakfast, can I come in?” You asked, awaiting his response. When one didn’t come you pushed down on the handle with your elbow, precariously balancing the tray in your arms as you did so and pushing the door open with your body. 

Maxwell was stirring when you entered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up in bed. You paused to observe him, the out of place hair, the wrinkle marks on his one cheek from where he’d slept on it. You had left him on the bed with most of his clothes on but at some point in the night he had stripped down to just his underwear. He realised this and pulled the covers halfway up his torso, which would have made you giggle if you weren’t trying so hard to not spill the coffee cups.

You placed the tray down on the side of the bed that was vacant, and took a seat next to him.

“You’re still here?” Maxwell asked, confused but not complaining as he took a sip of his coffee, black just how he liked it. 

“Yeah, it’s seven o’clock.”

“No I mean, you stayed the night?”

You frowned, nodding your head slowly as if it were obvious.

“I didn’t want to get a cab last night, it was too late. I thought you wouldn’t mind…”

“It’s no problem but you should have taken the bed,” Maxwell huffed at the thought of you having to sleep on his couch when he had a king size bed you both could have comfortably slept in. Though whether that was a good idea was another thing. Maxwell noticed for the first time that you were wearing one of his vest tops and had to quickly look away. It wasn’t just you in his clothes that got his heart thumping, it was you in his clothes _on his_ bed. 

“It was fine,” you shrugged, the ghost of an ache reminding you that your body disagreed. You liked the idea of sharing a bed with Maxwell but he still hadn’t made any move to suggest that he had any feelings for you that went beyond friendship. Sharing a bed would have had you yearning for something you may never have. 

You smiled reassuringly at Maxwell and picked at the French toast on the tray. He only sipped at his coffee and stared out of the window. Neither of you had closed the blinds last night so you could see the clear sky outside and the city in the distance. You started to feel awkward eating your breakfast. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone to the effort, maybe you should have left last night after all. 

“Are you feeling better?” You asked cautiously. He had opened up to you a few hours ago, exposed himself in a way you were sure he hadn’t done in front of anybody for a long time. You hoped he felt comfortable around you knowing you wouldn’t judge him for being emotional. 

Maxwell kept his gaze out the window when he spoke.

“All I ever wanted to be is a businessman. To be successful, even before Alistair was born. _I_ wanted to be someone to be proud of when I’m old. Now look at me.”

You heard the slight tremor in his voice and wanted to reach out and take his hand, but he gripped his coffee cup harshly and refused to look at you. 

The sun was slowly casting its rays into the bedroom, reaching across the room and stopping at Maxwell’s chest, keeping him half in the dark. 

“I can’t see Alistair like this,” Maxwell mumbled and placed the empty cup on the tray.

“Then take a shower, I’ll go home and get ready, I can be back here before Alistair arrives-“

“I can’t see him today,” Maxwell’s spoke with a finality that had you shaking your head.

“Maxwell, you’ve only had three Saturday’s with him, it’ll look bad if you cancel.”

“I cannot see him like this, I’m not in the right mindset.” Maxwell looks at you then, a pleading look in his eyes, like a child begging you not to make them do something they don’t want to do. You had seen the same look in Alistair’s eyes the previous week when he didn’t want to eat the broccoli he’d found in his pie. 

It was a hard situation to be in. You were the middlewoman between Alistair’s parents and would have to be the one to telephone Catherine Lord to say Maxwell couldn’t see him this weekend. You didn’t know what the repercussions would be, if the ex Mrs Lord would be forgiving or make a fuss about it to her lawyer. 

You also knew that Alistair was the most important thing in Maxwell’s life, so if he was willing to risk future weekends with his son then he really must be feeling terrible. 

You moved the tray to the bedside table and took a seat closer to Maxwell, legs underneath the covers, sitting up against the large headboard. 

“Are you sure? You might feel better once Alistair’s here,” you said gently, breath tickling the small hairs on Maxwell’s bare shoulder.

“I’m sure,” Maxwell replied, breath catching in his throat at your close proximity. 

You turned so you were on your side, legs accidentally bumping into his.

“I’ll tell them you’re sick.”

“They’ll think I’m hungover.”

“I can be very convincing,” you grinned lazily, and Maxwell matched you with his own sad smile.

“You are very good to me.”

“You deserve it,” you insisted and without thinking you reached up and attempted to move a long piece of hair away from his eyes, only for it to bounce back onto his forehead. 

You don’t know where your newfound bravery had come from, but the sun had moved its way up Maxwell’s body and painted an orange glow across his face and you couldn’t resist. Even if he pushed you away, rebuffed your affections, told you he didn’t feel the same way, at least you’d know where you stood with him finally.

But he did none of those things. He silently looked over the features of your face, captivated as you quickly licked your suddenly dry lips. He turned on his side to face you, moving to lean his forehead against yours, an indication of what he wanted and an opportunity for you to move away if you didn’t want anything more to happen. 

But you did. You’d been waiting for Maxwell to finally make a move that left no doubt as to what he thought about you. You were almost giddy with anticipation. 

His lips touched yours, insistent and impatient, and you reached behind his neck to pull him closer, greedy for more. Maxwell placed his large hands on either side of your waist, holding you chest to chest, the feeling of your breasts grazing his broad chest making you whine softly. 

You pulled away, only a fraction, the need for breath overriding the need to kiss him for longer. When you opened your eyes Maxwell was already looking at you, searching your features for any hint he had made a mistake. But all he saw was your delighted grin and he felt your hand move up to grip his hair and urge him forward for another kiss.

Maxwell obliged, and you opened your mouth to let him explore deeper. You pushed against his chest, keeping your lips locked with his as you urged him onto his back. He wrapped his arms tightly around your back and pulled you on top of him, a short, sharp giggle escaping him in disbelief. He was convinced he was dreaming.

You continued languidly kissing each other for a few more moments, getting acquainted to the feeling of your bodies pressed against the other, touches shy and over the top of clothing, both hesitant to cross _that line_ just yet.

When you pulled away a second time you were both happily flustered, hair tousled, fingers gripping onto each other in one way or another. You both giggled at the sight. 

“I see you,” you whisper into the nonexistent space between you, nuzzling your nose lightly against his, “I see exactly who you are. You’re a good man, Maxwell. It’s why I’m working so hard to get you everything you want.”

Maxwell surged up, taking your face in his hands, kissing you fervently. 

“I don’t know what I would have done without you guiding me every step of the way,” Maxwell spoke in between placing kisses on your lips. Now he had your permission he was going to take every opportunity to do the one thing he had dreamed of doing for weeks. 

“Take the day off, relax. I’ll handle everything with Alistair,” you promised, rising off of Maxwell’s chest and rolling off the side of the bed. 

“You won’t stay?”

_Yes_ , you thought, _of course I want to stay in this moment of bliss and perfection_. But a small part of you was hesitant to let things get out of hand. Maxwell was still hurting from the gala, so much so that he wasn’t going to budge on not seeing Alistair on the only day of the week he was allowed. 

Was kissing you just a distraction from having to talk about his feelings? Possibly. Not that kissing you meant nothing to him, you were certain it meant just as much to him as it did to you. But you needed to give him space to think everything through and hopefully the next time you saw each other things would be much clearer for the two of you. 

-

It felt weirdly like deja vu. When you got to Maxwell’s apartment Sunday morning he was already waiting for you, propped up against the doorway, welcoming you with a beaming smile, just as he had the very first time you had met him. He was wearing a grey suit you hadn’t seen before, his tie was pale blue and had polka dots of various shades of purple. It was happy colors, just like the look of happiness on his freshly shaved face.

“The cafe down the street opens in twenty minutes,” he said, making a show of looking at his watch, “shall we get breakfast?”

“Sure,” you responded with a shrug of your shoulders. Maxwell stepped out of his apartment, shutting his door and taking your hand to lead you to the elevator. 

You had no idea how the day was going to go, not after the previous days kiss in Maxwell’s bed. You were nervous about bringing it up, about having to have a conversation about _feelings_. But you felt positive witnessing Maxwell’s seemingly jubilant demeanour this morning. 

The journey to the cafe was mostly quiet, Maxwell pointing out which cars in the car park belonged to which neighbour. You found out the woman who had given you a dirty look the first day you met Maxwell was called Kimberly, she was rude and nosy and had cornered Maxwell half a dozen times to ask who the _‘weird woman’_ who always visited him was because _‘lodgers weren’t allowed in these buildings'_. You would have been offended but you were too busy laughing at Maxwell’s ridiculously squeaky American accent as he imitated Kimberly. 

The cafe was larger than you were expecting, but nearly empty except for a family of four huddled into the corner next to the window, happily chewing on waffles and pancakes. It had a classic American diner feel, with a red and silver color theme, metal chairs with plump seats and square tables, tall stools lining the entirety of the bar, black and white checkerboard style flooring. 

A waitress greeted Maxwell with a friendly but well rehearsed welcome speech and directed the two of you to a table off to the side. 

“I’m thinking something sweet, what about you?” Maxwell asked whilst perusing the menu. 

“I fancy an egg muffin. And plenty of coffee,” you said, trying to disguise a yawn behind your hand. Maxwell chuckled and ordered your breakfasts and the waitress left you both alone.

“I’ve sorted everything with Alistair, it’ll be back to normal next Saturday but if you cancel again I can’t promise it’ll be so easy next time.”

“It won’t happen again,” Maxwell promised, “I’m feeling much better today, ready to begin the rest of my life.”

You chuckled at how _bright_ Maxwell shined, there was a twinkle in his eye you hadn’t seen in a while and he had been standing tall on the walk over. It was like something had changed, or clicked in his mind that the future was bright and for the taking.

“That’s good to hear,” and you meant it, you were glad Maxwell wasn’t dwelling on what the rude man at the gala had shouted at him. 

The waitress appeared to pour you both coffees and Maxwell pushed the sugar pot across the table to you.

“My investments are really coming through as well,” Maxwell nodded his thanks to the waitress and continued, “but I’m aware that isn’t a permanent solution.”

“You’re right, but I’ve got an idea I need to run pass someone first.” You had been thinking over Maxwell’s money problem and thought you might have a solution, but you had to speak to someone before presenting it as an option to Maxwell. You didn’t want to get his hopes up. 

“That sounds intriguing,” Maxwell raised an eyebrow, probing for more information but you gave him nothing but a teasing smile.

“You’ll see,” you winked and sighed in relief when your food arrived. 

“Whatever it is, I trust you. Together we’ll show the world that Maxwell Lorenzano does not give up easily!”

You paused with a forkful of egg halfway to your lips, frowning at a name you hadn’t heard of before.

“Lorenzano?”

“My name before I changed it,” Maxwell looked at you bashfully, nervous for your reaction though he wasn’t sure why.

“Why did you change it?” 

“Because, y’know,” Maxwell shrugged and went about meticulously cutting up his waffles as he tried to explain, “people would rather deal with a white mans name.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, not because you didn’t understand why he had done it, but because you had had _no idea_. Maybe you should have, Lord wasn’t a Spanish sounding surname.

“What made you choose Lord?” You asked, forgetting about your breakfast, fully absorbed in this revelation. 

“It sounds grand, don’t you think? I thought if my name matched my ambition to be at the top then it would be like creating my destiny. It was bound to happen with a name like _Lord_.”

“You’ve never thought about changing it back?”

“Maybe in recent weeks,” Maxwell sighed and wiped his hands on a napkin, “I always thought I would keep going up in the world, that there would be no reason to ever look back. But I see now that was wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be ashamed of Maxwell Lorenzano. He was so much stronger.”

“Oh Maxwell.”

“No no, I mean it. He had many doors shut in his face, many people telling him he couldn’t be anyone important. Yet he persevered, never took no for an answer.”

“He’s still within you, Maxwell. You lost your way a little, it doesn’t mean you’re lost forever.”

Maxwell reached over the small table and interlocked your fingers together.

“Thank you. I agree,” he chuckled, it was lighthearted and soft on your ears and you wished you could hear it again, “I want to be more like him going forward. To be humble and keep in mind where I came from.”

You brought his hand up to your lips and left a few featherlight kisses along his knuckles. You could see his shoulders drop with a contented sigh, relishing in the feel of your lips on his skin. When you pulled back you saw his eyes flicker to your lips and you let out a self-conscious laugh. 

“Should we talk about what happened yesterday?” You had been bursting at the seams to ask all morning, waiting for the right opportunity even if you might end up regretting it, but you had to know if this _thing_ between the two of you was mutual, was serious. With all this talk of Maxwell concentrating on his future you wanted to know if that involved you. 

Maxwell shuffled in his seat but kept your hands firmly linked together. 

“I’d like to keep things slow to begin with, is that okay?”

You nodded enthusiastically, a sigh of relief leaving your lips at the thought of this only being the beginning. 

“I need to think about Alistair-“

“Of course, I don’t want to upset him.”

“You wouldn’t be upsetting him, he already likes you,” Maxwell said calmly, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand.

“I know it’s just, kids can be easily unsettled, with changes in their parents lives, you know? And I didn’t know if I went too far yesterday, especially considering you were upset about the gala, I thought maybe I was taking advantage-“

“You need to breathe, darling.”

“Sorry, I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Me neither.”

Silence settled over the both of you for a split second before you and Maxwell were laughing, wholeheartedly and hysterically. You felt heat rushing to your face and a pain develop in your belly from laughing so hard on a full stomach. 

When you both caught your breaths, you watched Maxwell wipe the tears from his eyes before handing you a handkerchief from his pocket for you to do the same. You sat there with goofy smiles on your faces until you were ready to leave. 

-

You wished you could have stayed in that cafe with Maxwell all day, but if you were to get any work done at all you needed to get home. 

It was early afternoon by the time you left Maxwell’s side, parting with a longing kiss in the cafe car park, a promise of more to come in the future. You could feel his lips on yours as you walked away, peeking over your shoulder only to see Maxwell hadn’t moved at all and was admiring the back of you. He averted his gaze from your ass and waved you goodbye.

You could have gotten a bus home, you had memorised the timetable but the skies were clear and you thought the fresh air would do you good. 

You regretted it as soon as you saw the graffiti on the side of a disused warehouse building. Or half of it. Half of Maxwell’s face with devil horns and a spiky tail being painted over by a couple of men in high-vis jackets. It caused your heart to drop painfully in your chest, your heart that had been so full of Maxwell’s love mere moments before.

You hated that you let it bother you. You knew Maxwell, what did it matter what other people thought? But you soon realised it was impossible _not to_ when people’s opinions were _everywhere_.

You found yourself walking through a quiet neighbourhood with small independent stores, a handful of fast food restaurants and as your luck would have it, an electrical store with televisions playing in the shop windows. Televisions with Maxwell’s face on it and some talkshow woman talking to camera about what she thought about his “fall from grace”. 

It was no wonder Maxwell found himself in a slump some days if this was what he saw all the time. You could imagine him flicking through the channels on his television and accidentally coming across this woman, this stranger, telling him exactly what she thought of him. It equally saddened you and made you mad. 

You knew what it was like to have your mistakes out in the open for everybody to have an opinion about, but at least your mistake was limited to the D.C area, Maxwell’s was worldwide. 

But the more you looked in that woman’s eyes and read the subtitles across the bottom of the screen, the more you saw her spewing her hateful comments and making her unfair judgements, the more determined you became to prove them all wrong.

And that’s exactly what you were going to do.


	7. VII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet with Diana to discuss Maxwell's options.

The Smithsonian looked a lot different in the day, the imposing building loomed over you as you walked up the front steps. You knew it wasn’t the museum that was making you nervous, but the job you had to do and the woman you had to meet. 

Maybe you should have ran the idea by Maxwell first, but a part of you knew he would be hesitant. After what you had seen on the night of the gala, Maxwell had been uncomfortable in Diana’s presence, and Diana was confrontational when she walked over to him. They obviously weren’t friends. 

But it was literally your job to get Maxwell back into the workplace, and if this didn’t work, and you didn’t manage to convince him that it was the ideal solution, then you didn’t know what you were going to do. 

You asked for Diana Prince at the information desk and was told by the man at the desk where she worked, pointing in the general direction of a staircase (you think) before answering a ringing telephone and dismissing you.

Trying to find your way to the Anthropology Department without a helpful staff member, or a map, was confusing and you ended up walking back on yourself more than a few times but you got to Diana’s office eventually. 

You were about to knock when the door flung open, Diana pausing just before bumping into you, a look of confusion on her face as she tried to remember where she’d seen you before.

“Diana isn’t it? I’m Maxwell’s friend, we met at the gala,” you said casually and stuck out your hand towards her, reminding her of your name. She took it after a moment, shaking your hand and politely laughing. If she was wary of you being at her place of work she didn’t let on, instead she ushered you into her office and offered you a cold coffee which you gladly took.

“Look, I don’t know what Maxwell has told you but as long as he stays out of trouble, he will never hear from me again.” 

Diana sat on one end of a velvety soft, maroon loveseat and you took a seat on the other end. 

“Actually, I’m hoping that won’t be true,” you began, cradling your cold coffee on your lap, “you must have some idea that Maxwell is struggling. Black Gold is bust and it will never recover. No one will hire Maxwell Lord, for obvious reasons.”

“I don’t see how I can help him. I sympathise, but Maxwell is reaping the repercussions of what he sowed. You can understand why no one wants to help him,” Diana spoke to you gently, offering you a sympathetic smile. 

You sighed as you looked around her office, a poster of human evolution, an old wind instrument that reminded you of the recorder you were taught to play at school, a long piece of parchment paper with what you could only guess were hieroglyphics or something similar. And on the wall next to where you sat was a diagram of a stone of some sort. 

“Maxwell got his stone from here, right?”

Diana nodded but said no more.

“A Dreamstone?”

“Whatever Maxwell has told you, it needs to stay a secret.”

“Diana, the whole world saw him use it.”

“The world saw a madman,” at your look of offence Diana shook her head, “I’m telling you what everybody saw, not who he actually is. And that is my point.”

You weren’t going to get into an argument with Diana about the Maxwell you knew, not right now anyway, so you bit your tongue.

“But he has ties to this place.”

Diana thought for a moment, starting to understand that you weren’t going to give up easily. She slowly nodded, eyeing you curiously and weighed up how much she should say about what had gone down with Maxwell and the Dreamstone.

“Maxwell only has ties to the Smithsonian because he wanted the stone. He befriended a gemologist, Barbara Minerva, to get to it. He succeeded and then he became the stone. And I presume you know the rest.”

It took you a second to realise that Diana had said _“he became the stone”_ but you filed it to the back of your mind for another time. Or maybe you would never bring it up. If you wanted Maxwell to get passed this part of his life, you would have to stop asking questions eventually. 

“So let me get this straight, because he was _the_ Maxwell Lord he could just walk into this place and take what he wanted?”

“Well, he was very persuasive. Plus he gave _a lot_ of money to the department as a bribe.”

“So he’s given money to the museum before?” The cogs were starting to turn in your head as you realised it could work in Maxwell’s favor if he’s already shown support for the Smithsonian.

Diana tilted her head as she watched you, trying to work out what you were planning. She was clever enough to realise almost instantly.

“You can’t seriously be suggesting that Maxwell work here?”

“I am! He’s already proven his loyalty to the museum through a donation I assume was _considerable_. I’m sure it helped the museum _a lot_.”

Diana hesitantly nodded, knowing the money was much larger than any benefactor had given to the museum in years. She sighed in frustration and stood, walking over to her desk to rifle through a pile of papers. You placed your forgotten coffee on the table and followed. 

“I know he can’t work in any of these departments. But he has a business degree, he’s got the experience. He’s someone the museum would jump at the chance to have work here.”

Diana laughed cynically.

“You said yourself, nobody will hire him, what makes you think we will?”

“I said no one will hire Maxwell Lord. But what about Maxwell Lorenzano?”

Diana looked up from her papers and gave you a quizzical look.

“He wants a fresh start and I think I can persuade him to leave the Lord name behind.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering if you were overstepping. Maxwell had said to you at the diner that he wanted to be more like his old self, maybe this was the way forward? 

It wasn’t unlike you, as a lawyer, to be persuasive to get the results you wanted, the results you thought were best for your clients. But Maxwell wasn’t a client, not in your heart. He was your friend, and hopefully more in the future. Were you being too pushy, putting out the idea of him changing back to his birth name? Even though he’d suggested that very thing to you at the diner? 

You were starting to realise why it was frowned upon to begin relationships with clients, it made everything so complicated, it had you second guessing everything you were saying and doing whilst working for them. Because it wasn’t about getting results for the pay check at the end of the job, it was about getting results for the man you loved. It was about wanting the best for him, wanting him to be pleased with you and everything you were doing for him. 

“Are you okay?” Diana’s voice jolted you out of your spiralling thoughts and had you laughing awkwardly.

“I’m fine,” your smile didn’t quite meet your eyes, but you cleared your throat as you pointed to the papers she was looking through, silently asking her to explain.

“There was a list of job vacancies the boss sent around to everybody on Friday, it was here somewhere… a-ha!” Diana produced the single piece of paper with titles and one-sentence job descriptions on it.

“Is there anything appropriate for Maxwell?” You asked hopefully, going on tip toes to try and peep over the paper. Diana shook her head as she read down the page, coming to a stop right at the bottom.

“Although…”

“What is it?” You asked, a little too forcefully. Too impatient to wait a moment longer you snatched the piece of paper from Diana’s fingers and skimmed through the titles until you saw the very last one.

“Do you think-“

“It’s perfect,” you shot Diana a beaming smile, “will you-“

“I’ll let the boss know I have the perfect guy for the job.”

-

Maxwell nervously shuffled from foot to foot outside your apartment door, holding a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands, similar to the ones you wore on your dress the night of the gala. His polo shirt felt too tight on him all of a sudden, and he wasn’t sure if he should button all four buttons or leave it at two. 

The issue wasn’t that he had never been to your apartment before, or even that he was visiting unannounced, but entering into a new relationship. With you.

He loved you. He realised that at the gala when he watched you charming potential clients, giving away business cards until you had ran out of them, it had filled him with such a sense of pride that you had walked in on his arm. It wasn’t a slow realisation either. It was when he was seeing people notice you, laugh with you, agree with your advice, and then he thought _yes, see this brilliant woman who can make your dreams come true? I love her._

It didn’t scare Maxwell, quite the opposite. He was excited. Because you both worked so well together already. It was all so natural, the way you joked with him over lunch, or grabbed his hand in the middle of conversation. And the kissing.

Maxwell hadn’t kissed anyone the way he’d kissed you in… forever. It was a kiss that lit a burning flame in his heart, warm in every way but persistent and wouldn’t burn out until you reignited it with another. He felt the ghost of your lips on his, even in his dreams and he would wake up with a smile on his face, ready to start the new day in the hopes that he would see you soon. 

He felt young again, in a wide eyed, fresh faced kind of way. Like the world was his for the taking because he had you by his side to keep him grounded but also an encouraging voice in his ear telling him he could do anything if he just believed in himself. 

Maxwell wished he’d met you so much sooner. Before the seed of the Dreamstone had been planted in his mind and he’d gone on his reign of self destruction. He thinks you would have been able to stop him, to persuade him that he had everything he needed already. You could have helped him through the financial difficulties of Black Gold. You would have saved him. 

Maxwell shook his head of that thought and readjusted his collar. He couldn’t change the past. He could only look to the future.

He knocked on the door, realising he probably should have called before coming over. You might be working, or have friends over, or not be in at all-

The door flew open and you appeared, holding a wooden spoon in your hand and wearing an apron tied at the front covered in what looked and smelled like cocoa powder.

“Maxwell? What’re you doing here?” You asked, surprised to see him at your door.

“I should have called ahead, I apologise-“

“Don’t be silly. How many times have I come over to yours without warning? Come in,” you pointed towards the living room with your spoon and closed the door behind you. 

Maxwell let you lead him into the open plan area. It was smaller than Maxwell’s apartment but the layout was almost the same. The furnishings however were trying to be less impressive, more rustic with dark, wooden furniture instead of brightly colored plastic. It was comfortable and had a homely feel to it that Maxwell didn’t realise he liked until now. There were papers strewn across the coffee table, bookshelves actually filled with books unlike his own, dozens of blankets laid across the top of the couch, coffee stains on side tables. It was a perfect mix of your head and your heart. Smart and kind. Hard working but also relaxed. 

You went into the kitchen area, pulling open the oven and the smell of freshly baked chocolate cookies filled the air. Maxwell’s stomach rumbled but luckily you were too busy to hear. It was then that Maxwell remembered the flowers in his hand.

“I brought you flowers,” Maxwell placed them on top of the island, perching on a stool.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet,” you picked them up and went searching for a vase in the cupboards. You found a decanter with a thick neck and decided that would be sufficient, filling it with water from the tap and placing the flowers inside to display on the countertop.

“I wanted to talk to you about some things,” Maxwell cleared his throat and interlocked his hands together on top of the island, “about my future.”

“Yes,” you nodded, taking a seat on a stool opposite Maxwell, “I think I have a plan, the next step, maybe even permanently if you agree to it.”

“Can we talk about us first?”

You froze in your spot, ready with your speech that would sell your plan to him, but you could see he had come over for a reason and decided to let him talk first. 

“I said I wanted to take things slow, and I still do. But I need things to be clear, out in the open so you know where I stand,” as much as Maxwell was nervous he kept eye contact with you, “I love you. I’m falling in love with you. These last couple of months have opened my eyes to how lonely and alone I am. And I’m not using that as an excuse for what I did but if I am going to succeed in being a good father, a good man, then I need you by my side. I think the world of you and everything you’ve done for me and I promise to try and make it up to you in any way I can.”

Your smile grew the more Maxwell talked, hearing everything you’d hoped he would say. You were on the same page, wanted the same things. Maxwell patiently waited for you to respond, even though the butterflies in his stomach were threatening to painfully burst out of him.

“Maxwell Lorenzano, I love you too.” You laughed, tears welling in your eyes, your chest full of happiness that things were looking up for the both of you. 

You wiped at your eyes with the bottom of the apron you were still wearing, then placed both your hands over the top of his.

“You say I’ve helped you but you have no idea how much you’ve helped me too. I was at the bottom of a very dark pit of self hatred before I met you. And although I was getting better, I don’t know what would have happened in my life if you hadn’t called me that day. I’m not sure if I believe in fate or destiny or anything like that but I believe we met each other at the perfect moment so we could help each other through the worst time of our lives. And if we can pull each other out of that then we can do anything together.”

Maxwell’s watery smile grew as he stood from his stool and walked around the island to stand next to you. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss to the top of your head, before placing another on the tip of your nose that had you giggling. You stood and used the sudden closeness to press a bold kiss to his lips, hands running through his hair as his hands came to naturally place themselves in the dip of your waist.

Maxwell pulled away to place small kisses to the corner of your mouth, tasting the remnants of the chocolate mixture you must have tasted whilst baking your cookies. When he got to your jaw he felt your hands on his shoulders gently pushing him away, an apologetic look in your eyes.

“I still need to talk to you about the plan I’ve put together.”

Maxwell groaned, keeping a hold of your waist as he playfully tickled the soft skin of your neck with his nose.

“Maxwell…” you chuckled, enjoying this playful side of Maxwell.

“You’re ruining the fun,” Maxwell removed his head from your neck and pouted. You tried to take him seriously but he looked like a grumpy child who had been told ‘no more sweets’. You kissed him sweetly on the cheek and motioned towards the couch in the living room. 

His sigh was overly exaggerated as he took a seat on the couch. You had taken off your apron in the kitchen and sat next to Maxwell with a yellow sweater on, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. In amongst the rustic aesthetic of the living room, you looked like actual sunshine to Maxwell. 

“I tried to find you a job that I thought you’d like, that wouldn’t necessarily be easy but would use your previous skills and still challenge you.”

You took a piece of paper from the side table and handed it to Maxwell. It detailed a job description, the kinds of jobs he’d be taking on and with what departments, and the key skills he would be using. Maxwell nodded the whole way through until he spotted where he would be working.

“The Smithsonian?” He asked, unsure and a little take aback that this would be the place you’d choose considering his connections to the place. 

“Yes, it was much easier to find you a job at a place you’d already given a sizeable donation to,” you explained gently, you ran your fingernails along the lines in the palm of your hand, a nervous habit as you tried to gauge Maxwell’s reaction. 

“I don’t know,” Maxwell re-read over the job description, which he was comfortable with, the annual salary that was more than enough to look after himself and Alistair, the job title _‘Financial Manager’_ was more than suitable for his qualifications, everything was perfect, except the place of work. He would run into Diana probably, and was Barbara still working there? That would be awkward. That place held bad memories, Maxwell was trying to move away from his past not shoot head first towards it. 

“Look, you would mostly be working in the offices away from other departments, Diana said-“

“You spoke to Diana?” Of course you had, how would this job be practically given to him without so much as an interview without Diana’s help? Maxwell eyed you suspiciously, wondering how much she’d told you about the incident, how much you’d told her about Maxwell’s situation. He trusted you, he _loved_ you, there was no love without trust but he suddenly felt like the walls of your apartment were closing in on him and the piece of paper in his hand was shaking as though an earthquake was ripping through the building.

“Maxwell?” He heard your voice but it was so far away, where had you gone? It was like listening to someone shouting from the other end of a tunnel, had you left him? Maxwell’s eyes were closed tightly shut so he couldn’t see where you’d gone but he felt something soft and warm on either side of his face, and then his face was being pressed into something fluffy, it felt like how your sweater looked, was it you? 

Your voice was getting clearer and his breathing was slowing down though he didn’t remember breathing so fast, why was he struggling to breathe? 

Your hands, he could feel them now, moving over his shoulders, along his back, up and down his upper arms and the fog was slowly lifting from his mind, from his lungs, and there were tears falling from his eyes. And all he could hear were your apologies and his name leaving your lips. Your sweet lips that felt so good against his own, they were touching his ear as you spoke soothing words, he concentrated on that and then everything was clear. 

He cautiously pulled away from you, just enough to see you looking at him full of concern. Maxwell placed his large hand against your cheek and guided you to press your foreheads together as he continued to breathe through the panic attack. 

“I’m so sorry Maxwell,” you whispered but Maxwell shushed you softly, stroking your cheek, your hair, your neck until he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and brought you into a hug.

“You are perfect and have nothing to be sorry for,” he said, holding you close until he believed you were truly there and not a hallucination created out of his panic stricken mind, “it just all suddenly felt very real. I think I’m scared.”

He felt you nod against his chest, your hand was running up and down his side, soothing him, comforting him in any way that you could. You were nearly lying on top of him; Maxwell had leaned you both backwards, his head resting on the corner of the couch as he tried to relax and prevent another panic attack.

“I’m here. You don’t have to do any of this on your own. Or at all, I’ll call Diana and tell her the job isn’t suited to you. We’ll find something else.”

“No,” that made you look up from his chest, searching his eyes for what he meant, “it’s the kind of job I’d be good at. I just have to remember that I’m not alone.”

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that, holding each other close, but by the time you tried the cookies they were cold.


	8. VIII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maxwell signs the contract on his new job and looks forward to a bright future with you.

“Shall I hold your briefcase for you?”

“I think I can carry my own briefcase, Maxwell.”

“Of course you can. But I don’t know what to do with my hands.”

“Stand still or you’ll wear a hole in the concrete.” 

You pulled Maxwell out the way of the visitors trying to get through the front doors of the Smithsonian, pausing at a quiet spot by the side of the building.

“You’re just signing the contract today, and they’ll probably go through what to expect when you start on Monday. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Maxwell huffed, nerves radiating off him. You placed your thin, leather briefcase on the floor and wrapped your arms around his waist in a tight hug he couldn’t escape from if he tried. For a moment Maxwell didn’t do anything and you thought your tactic wouldn’t work but he eventually returned your hug, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“Better?”

“Better,” Maxwell replied, you felt him smiling against you. 

In the two weeks since you confessed your love to one another, your relationship had continued to blossom into something you were confident would only get better. His touches were less hesitant, your love for him more obvious now neither of you were afraid of the others rejection. 

You had also grown a steady relationship with Alistair. He was comfortable in your presence, even giving you hugs and kisses when you met him every Saturday. He was a great kid, smart and kind and all the good things he’s picked up from his father from young. 

And with Alistair’s regularly scheduled visits back on track every weekend, Maxwell’s wobble in your apartment had been the last time he’d had a panic attack. Though he’d had moments of self doubt you had been there to hold him in your arms and whisper promises that everything would be alright in the end. Which it often was.

You pulled away from the hug when you heard the sound of high heels walking purposefully towards the two of you. Looking over Maxwell’s shoulder you saw Diana smiling at you, nodding her head towards the door as she walked into the building.

“Are you ready to go in now?” You looked at Maxwell, a warm smile greeting you before he placed a kiss to your forehead.

“I could conquer the world with you by my side,” Maxwell squirmed at his choice of words as soon as he’d said them, guilt flooding his features. He was mostly over _the incident_ but sometimes he was reminded of what he did and those feelings of shame filled up inside of him like an overflowing glass. 

You smiled reassuringly and placed a soft hand on his cheek.

“You will conquer your own world, and I will be by your side every step of the way.”

Maxwell’s shoulders sagged in relief and he turned his head a fraction to kiss the palm of your hand.

You strode through the Smithsonian hand in hand with purpose, passing the man at the desk that had been rude to you the first time you’d visited the museum, through the corridors Maxwell had pulled you through on the night of the gala, and finally into Diana’s office. 

You were there as mediator and a professional, to oversee the contract on behalf of Maxwell and ensure there would be as little public interest as possible in his new job. You weren’t going to join him to begin with, you thought it might work against him and look unprofessional to have his girlfriend looking over his shoulder as he signed the paperwork, but he had begged you to come with him. A part of you thought he just needed a hand to hold during his first step back into the world of work but as you entered the office and saw the folders upon folders of papers on the desk you realised it was probably a good idea to have a former lawyer at the table. 

You both took your seats on the other side from Diana and a man you hadn’t met. His name badge read _‘Joseph Hammond Finance and Administration’_ so you assumed he was the head of the department. He was around Maxwell’s age, a mop of dark, curly hair, a short beard on a handsome face and hazel eyes that reminded you of cups of milky coffee. He shot you a genuinely friendly smile that welcomed you warmly, and shook yours and Maxwell’s hands across the table.

“Welcome Mr and Mrs Lorenzano-“

Maxwell hid his gasp of surprise behind a cough and you tried to laugh off the mistake the best you could.

“No we’re not… I’m here in a professional capacity, to oversee the contract and ensure Maxwell will be happy in his new role.”

“I apologise, Ms Prince didn’t give me your details so I assumed…” Joseph cleared his throat awkwardly and opened up a folder to begin.

You snuck a glance over to Maxwell who was focusing stoically on Joseph, but you were comforted by the feel of his knee knocking gently against yours underneath the table. 

“It’s not a problem. Shall we begin?” Maxwell flashed a winning smile and everybody was put at ease once more.

You didn’t miss the way Diana was smirking behind a strategically placed hand over her mouth, glancing knowingly between the two of you. 

Joseph spoke about the role of Financial Manager, confirming the kinds of jobs Maxwell would be undertaking, ensuring he was up to the tasks ahead. Maxwell was confident, nodding throughout, taking it all in his stride. You knew he would be a good fit, it was nothing he hadn’t done before at Black Gold Cooperative. 

You watched in awe as Maxwell talked, turning on the charm to get Joseph laughing. He was in his element being the star of the room, the confidence made him glow, the charisma you had seen in his commercials, you realised, wasn’t something he faked but was just another part of him you hadn’t seen in person before. It was his work persona. Just like you could turn the lawyer part of you on and off, Maxwell could turn the _Lord_ aspect of his personality on and off when he wanted to. 

“You know, Joseph, can I call you Joseph?”

“Please do. Mr Hammond makes me think of my father.”

Maxwell faux groaned, grinning as he signed the contract. “That’s when you know you’re getting old, right?”

“Always makes me shudder.”

“Joseph, I think I’m really going to like working with you,” Maxwell slid the paper across the table to Joseph, clicking the top of his pen and sitting back in his chair in a show of such outrageous confidence you thought you were looking at a different man altogether. 

You raised an eyebrow at Diana who was relaxed in her seat, watching the show, a twinkle in her eye. She wasn’t concerned, she had done her research on you, had been watching you closely since you’d turned up at her office. She’d decided you were good for Maxwell and would keep him out of trouble so she didn’t have to. She was happy Maxwell was finding his feet again, she had never thought him to be a bad person, only misguided in his aspirations. It was her belief that there was goodness in everybody, and even more so in Maxwell now he’d found you.

“I would like to jump in for a moment, if that’s okay?” You asked, mostly to Maxwell. You didn’t want to interrupt his flow, but you had a few questions you needed answers to. Fortunately Maxwell was more than happy for you to step in.

“Joseph, I know Maxwell will be using his former surname going forward, but will his work here be kept to as few people as possible? At least to begin with.”

“Of course, though we usually send a memo around the department, informing everyone of who the new hires are, as an introduction and so they feel welcome by the Smithsonian.” Joseph nervously glanced at Maxwell who offered him a reassuring smile. 

“Great, and Maxwell’s previous role as a public figure won’t be taken advantage of by the museum for publicity?”

“Oh goodness, no Miss-“

“Because that’s our biggest concern, you can understand that Maxwell wants to keep a low profile.”

“I can personally assure you,” Joseph turned to Maxwell, clasping his hands together in a show of sincerity, “that your role here as Financial Manager will be discreet and you will be treated the same as everybody else in this building.”

You felt a little bad, Maxwell’s charming persona made you look like the ‘bad cop’ to his ‘good cop’, but for the sake of both you and Maxwell, you had to make sure Joseph knew what was at stake. You couldn’t have a media frenzy over Maxwell’s hire, it would undo everything you had helped Maxwell build up from nothing. 

“Wonderful,” Maxwell clapped his hands loudly and sat forward in his seat, hand outstretched towards Joseph, “it has been an absolute pleasure to meet you Joseph, and I look forward to seeing you on Monday.”

You breathed a sigh of relief as they shook hands, the meeting having gone better than you’d anticipated. Much better. Maxwell looked ecstatic, Diana looked proud and you think you scared Joseph a little because he waved you a quick goodbye, unable to meet your eyes before he fled the room. 

You beamed at Maxwell as you walked out of the office and through the corridors of his new place of work. Engrossed in the welcome pack that detailed the perks of the job, Maxwell didn’t notice Diana walking on the other side of you.

“He is a different man to the one I knew a few months ago,” Diana mused, “I wonder why.”

“You’re not being subtle. But really, I can’t take all the credit,” you murmured, coming to a gradual stop in the foyer of the main building, “he _wants_ to change, and I can’t thank you enough for helping to get him the job.”

“He knows where I am if he needs my help. But I don’t think he will need it,” Diana pulled you into a quick hug before addressing Maxwell who eventually joined the two of you, “congratulations Maxwell, I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Diana,” Maxwell wasn’t sure whether to hug her or shake her hand, but he made do with a thankful smile. You both watched Diana leave the building before turning to each other.

“I feel lighter, like I can breathe for the first time,” Maxwell interlocked your hands but made no move to leave.

“You’re not having any regrets? Financial Manager is a million miles away from oil tycoon.”

Maxwell laughed, shaking his head in response. He wistfully looked around at his new place of work, at the artefacts in their cabinets, the model skeletons on display and finally back to you.

“It’s good to feel normal for once. I can focus on what’s really important in my life.”

Your smile grew, understanding the underlying meaning of his words, leaning forward to press a small kiss to Maxwell’s lips. 

“I’m taking you to dinner tonight, be ready for eight, I’ll pick you up.”

You arched an eyebrow at his confident tone.

“Yes, Sir.”

-

It was just before eight when Maxwell picked you up outside your apartment. He had finally brought himself a car, second hand and nowhere near as luxurious as he was used to.

“What do you think?” He asked, holding open the passenger side door for you.

“It’s nice,” you nodded slowly and Maxwell looked at you, unconvinced, “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about cars. I only got my license ‘cause it was a requirement for jobs.”

Maxwell laughed and shut your door. When he jumped into the driving seat he watched in amusement as you ran a hand along the leather seat you were sat on, fingers following the dips and threads.

“I can’t wait to take you and Alistair out in this. We could go out of DC for the day, find a theme park, or a zoo, what do you say?”

You look up into his hopeful eyes, you felt a change in the air between you two. He was inviting you into the family days out, into the precious little time he had with his son and it felt good. Your heart sped up in excitement. 

“I would love that. But let’s have dinner first, I’m starving.”

Maxwell agreed and turned the key in the ignition. 

The restaurant he had picked out was Italian, a small building in amongst much larger restaurants in the street. The front of the building was covered in vines climbing up the walls, planters of rose bushes lined the small pathway to the door where a red and gold awning hung above it. It was cute, and the area was quiet, it was the kind of place you’d pick to go on a date.

“We won’t be bothered here,” Maxwell promised as he parked up out front, “is it okay?”

“You don’t have to try and please me all the time, you know.”

“I know, but you deserve only the best.”

You leaned over and placed a kiss to his cheek, chuckling and wiping away the gloss you’d left on his skin.

“It looks lovely. Are we going to just look at it or…?”

“Yes, alright, you’re so impatient,” Maxwell smacked you playfully on the top of the thigh and proceeded to exit the car to walk around and open your side. After he helped you out of the car, he linked your arms together and lead you into the restaurant. 

The lighting was dark and atmospheric inside, small yellow lamps lined the walls above tables for two, the furnishings were a dark wood, the red and gold color theme you’d seen outside carried on inside in the fabrics of the chairs and booths. 

You were surprised when Maxwell walked you through the middle of the room, following a waiter who didn’t stop you at a table but instead took you to a narrow staircase at the back of the restaurant. Maxwell walked behind you as you ascended the stairs, a hand on your hip to keep you steady until the waiter led you down a short corridor and into a small room that opened up onto a balcony. 

You looked over your shoulder to Maxwell who was smiling at you, his hand moving to your back to guide you towards the balcony. 

As you stepped outside you noticed the single table with two chairs, a balcony all to yourself, the baskets of roses hanging off the wrap around railing, a candle on the table that the waiter lit as soon as Maxwell had guided you to sit down.

“Would you like red or white wine, darling?”

You heard Maxwell’s question but it took a second to get your head around everything. He had done all this for you? He’d booked a balcony and dinner, candles and roses, all for you? You couldn’t do anything but nod and Maxwell took the initiative to order red wine and ask the waiter to give you a few moments before ordering.

“What’s wrong? Is it too much?”

You shook your head, desperate to try and form words to reassure Maxwell that everything was more than fine. It was perfect.

“I wasn’t expecting all of this, that’s all. It’s lovely, thank you,” you smiled, willing the tears not to fall as you reached across the table to take hold of Maxwell’s hand.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Maxwell took a handkerchief out of his pocket and passed it over to you, which you gratefully took to dab underneath your eyes.

“You didn’t upset me. Nobody had gone to this much effort for me before, I appreciate it.”

“I meant what I said outside. You deserve the very best.”

“I don’t need the best, I just need you.” You hadn’t meant to say it so casually, but that’s the way it came out. As though it was so obvious that it didn’t need to be said out loud. But it was how you felt, you really only needed Maxwell, everything else was unimportant. 

“I feel the same way about you,” Maxwell whispered. 

Just then the waiter brought the wine to the table and you took that opportunity to order food. 

“I’ve been wondering something for some time,” you said as soon as the waiter had left.

“You can tell me.”

“You’ve never asked me what I wished for.”

You watched the surprised look on his face turn to curiosity. He hadn’t expected you to ever tell him, although he’d always had an itch to ask, but he wondered why you would bring it up so long after meeting him.

“It’s personal. I never wanted to ask in case you didn’t want to tell me.”

Maxwell took a sip of his wine as you contemplated telling him. Would it feel better getting it off your chest? Putting everything on the table and wiping the slate clean might be the best thing to do before things got _serious_ between you. Otherwise it would always be in the air, unspoken but on the tip of your tongue. You couldn’t go the rest of your life like that.

“I didn’t wish anything. But I almost did. I nearly wished for everybody to forget who I was.”

That wasn’t what Maxwell was expecting. He had an idea that it would have something to do with your last case as a lawyer, perhaps wishing it had never happened, or that you could have your job back. He frowned, willing you to explain further.

“I couldn’t see a way out of the situation I was in. I had locked myself away in my apartment since the court case, refused to answer the telephone, I was a complete mess. So I was going to wish for everyone to forget me. Even my parents. I wanted to start all over again.”

“But you didn’t make the wish?”

You snorted humorlessly and shook your head. 

“I drank so much I passed out.”

Maxwell took a deep breath, taking in what you were saying. He understood, and he was the last person in the world that would judge you. He was just glad it hadn’t worked, for the both of you. 

“It will never come to that again,” Maxwell promised.

“I know.”

“I mean it. We have each other now. Especially through the dark times.”

You smiled, your heart feeling less heavy now that was off your chest. 

“Things are already looking up,” you remarked, wanting to quickly move away from your admission, “I have meetings next week with potential clients from the gala.”

Maxwell’s face lit up, delighted to hear that things were going just as well for you as they were for him.

“Yes! I told you those business cards would work!”

You laughed together through the meal, conversation much lighter and flowing freely between the two of you, just as it always did. It was easy to talk to Maxwell, to joke with him and feel happy. 

When you were finished, Maxwell wrapped his jacket around your cold shoulders and he walked you to his car. He turned to you, kissing you softly but with no expectation.

“Would you like to come back to mine tonight?” He asked, nuzzling his nose gently against yours, the taste of sauce and herbs on both your lips.

“I would,” you replied, overjoyed at where you found yourself, kissing the man you loved with the promise of so much more to come.


End file.
